


The Necromancer and the Orchid Prince

by Yolashillinia



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nobody Dies, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, True Love, but the second ending is the real one, canon-divergent, except in the first ending for the drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 196,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yolashillinia/pseuds/Yolashillinia
Summary: Caoilfhionn's dearest wish is to fall in love. Trahearne tried not to. Semi-novelization; full party of PCs; fixes that annoying [HoT spoilers] issue.
Relationships: Lord Faren/Female Player Character (Guild Wars), Trahearne/Male Player Character (Guild Wars), implied Canach/Female Player Character (Guild Wars)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 11





	1. Hope's Just a Sunrise Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caoilfhionn's name is pronounced 'kee-lin' because it is Irish. It's actually a feminine name in Irish, because I was intending to create a female character, but upon inspection, I didn't like the female voice nearly as much as the male voice. Which surprised me, because I respect Jennifer Hale a lot, but she just didn't sound right for the character I wanted to play. But I still liked the name Caoilfhionn, so I decided to use it anyway. My friend Tharash, who plays Wegaff the Asura Elementalist and Annhilda the Norn Guardian and Rhyoll the Charr Engineer, suggested I use the name Caolán instead, but I like the convoluted spelling of Caoilfhionn so I've stuck with it.
> 
> Tharash edited all his characters' dialogue (up to chapter 40, anyway) because I don't know how to write good Asura. (also my capitalization decisions on PC races are deliberate.)
> 
> Caoilfhionn listens to a lot of Enya as a soundtrack. In fact, the official playlist is [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLkuvaFXuBCaR25qm4s4tRG83naH1yViiH), which does not necessarily contain a lot of Enya, but this is the story playlist, not Caoilfhionn's personal playlist. ;)
> 
> Here's a picture of [his immediate siblings](http://www.adhemlenei.com/illinia/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/gw2family2.jpg)!

> _Fear not this night_  
>  _You will not go astray_  
>  _Though shadows fall_  
>  _Still the stars find their way_
> 
> _And you can always be strong_  
>  _Lift your voice with the first light of dawn_
> 
> _Dawn’s just a heartbeat away_  
>  _Hope’s just a sunrise away_

* * *

1: Hope’s Just a Sunrise Away

He started up from lying down to sitting, disoriented by the change of setting – this was not a forest grove filled with the malicious shadow of a dragon! This was a hut built of leaves, and he lay on a bed of leaves, and dressed in simple brown clothes. “Where am I? I… I was fighting a great evil. Are we safe? Caithe – where is Caithe!?”

A kindly looking Sylvari bent over him, reaching out a hand to prevent him from jumping to his feet. “Steady, sapling. You just woke. You were calling out in your Dream. Caithe was just here, but she had to go speak to the Pale Tree. What’s your name?”

“Caoilfhionn,” he said. “Caithe and I fought side by side against a poison in the Dream. I saw the shadow of a terrible dragon, and I felt the Dream call upon me to defeat it.” Even now, the adrenaline, the darkness caught at his breath and made his hands tremble.

“By the Tree!” exclaimed the Mender. “A Wyld Hunt, so soon? And such a momentous task. To be a Valiant of the Wyld Hunt is a difficult charge.” He smiled at him. “Bear this calling with pride.”

That was right. If he was a Valiant, he was a knight – and a knight was his pride and his honour. “I will. But… how do I begin? One does not simply awaken and rush off to face a dragon.”

“Begin here,” said the Mender. “I am Mender Serimon. You will be in my care for the rest of the day, to recover and prepare to explore the world around you. Another is already here, perhaps you would like to speak with him. Or perhaps you would like something to eat – the sun is just rising.”

“The sun!” Caoilfhionn exclaimed. “I must see it. I have so longed to see it!”

“Mind your eyes, do not look directly at it or they will burn to blindness,” Mender Serimon cautioned him, and gestured to the door.

Standing was a little wobbly – for the first step, and then he walked – and then he ran to the door, barefoot, to see a glorious green wilderness soaked in golden light. Leaves splashing across his vision, vines curling about everything, gorgeous blue and red butterflies glittering amidst yellow and violet flowers. His eyes smarted just looking upon the brilliance of all the colours, perceiving these vivid hues for the first time, and he squinted for a few minutes. Did everyone have eyes this sensitive, or was it just because he was brand new?

A few minutes later he was on top of the hut, arms outstretched, eyes closed, feeling the incredible humid warmth wash over his fresh new skin. If this was The World, he could get used to this! The view that was revealed when he opened his eyes – indescribable! He’d dreamed too of far-off vistas, of seeing what the world _was_ , and this first taste of it left him speechless. This place, on the upper edge of the Grove, must be the most beautiful place in the world, with a view of the Grove to the north, and the tangled lushness of the jungle to the west, and the ocean to the east where the golden sun had just crept over the edge of the horizon. And above them all, the Pale Tree towered, tremendous and beautiful, sheltering them all in her shade.

He heard a faint call and turned to see a couple Sylvari passing by below. “Happy birthday,” said one, grinning, waving.

“Thank you,” he said with a polite bow, barely able to contain the joy bubbling up inside him. He wanted to do everything, see everything, know everything, all at once! He wanted to dance, to sing as his Mother had sang in her song to him while he was still Dreaming, so though he knew no songs yet other than that one, he threw back his head and let it out. “ _Lift your voice with the first light of dawn!_ ” They laughed with him, cheering good-naturedly.

It took him an hour to come back down, and then he discovered food, and _then_ he discovered a mirror: so he could finally see what he looked like. He’d known he had blue skin, the colour of dark forget-me-nots, with peach streaks in the veins, but now he knew his large round eyes were also a pale peachy-pink, and his leaves the colour of purple orchids. His narrow chin tapered into tiny tendrils that might be mistaken for a slight beard on a Human, and his ears were like little buds newly opened. Quite frankly, if he only had proper clothes, he’d cut a rather striking figure. He preened for a bit, adjusting his leaves to lie _just so_ – and saw them immediately spring back to their previous position. Oh well. They already looked handsome if he left them.

A low, resonant chuckle caught his attention, and he turned around to see another Sylvari, green, pinecone-headed, with pale green eyes watching him. “Are you about done, Brother?” He had much more of a tendril-beard, and a much fiercer face compared to Caoilfhionn’s soft and innocent look.

“For now,” he said, smiling at the newcomer. “I’m Caoilfhionn.”

“I’m Cathaoir. I was born some hours ago. I do not like to be kept here…”

“Nor I,” Caoilfhionn agreed, “but I have my doubts of starting a Wyld Hunt on my birthday…”

“You are chosen for a Wyld Hunt?” Cathaoir asked in surprise. “What is it about?”

“I believe I must slay a dragon,” Caoilfhionn said, eyes sparkling with delight. “I do not know if I can, but I shall certainly try, for what could be more glorious?”

“What could be more glorious indeed,” Cathaoir said. “I wish you good fortune! I have decided to become a Warden.”

“You would be suited for it,” Caoilfhionn said, looking at Cathaoir’s body with some admiration. He himself was quite slender, and thin-and-smooth-skinned, but Cathaoir looked strong and tough, with thick bark skin.

“Do you think so? Thank you. I may not see as much of Tyria as you will, but surely I shall prove my mettle ere long in service to the Pale Tree. And that is what truly matters, of course.”

And thus they talked throughout the day, walking about the hut and immediate grounds, gazing out over the sea that spread below them. Other new-borns came in – a female named Eithne, spring-yellow with lush green fern-like fronds, who apparently had not formed with a nose; a male named Ruadhan, withered-leaf-brown with scarlet brambles for hair, even more bark-clad than Cathaoir and a face so craggy it was hard to tell if he had a nose either, and a female named Blathnat, pale pink like a tulip with autumn-red and green grass upon her head.

They talked of many things, and shortly after Ruadhan came but before Blathnat had yet arrived, Ruadhan said: “We must title each other!”

“Why do you say so?” Eithne asked, putting her head to one side and letting her fronds hang like willow branches. “Surely we shall soon enough have titles anyway.”

“Ah, but anyone _could_ be a Warden, or a Valiant, or a Hunter, or a Mender,” said Ruadhan. “I want us to have special titles, that we use amongst ourselves. Like the humans do.”

“Like nicknames?” Cathaoir said curiously. He did not seem to be nearly as set on the idea, yet he wasn’t speaking against it, either.

“I suppose,” Ruadhan said. “But – Cathaoir, you must be the Pine Marquess.”

Cathaoir laughed. “I accept. But only if you become the Briar Baronet.”

Ruadhan tossed his spiky vines. “I accept! Brilliant, Cathaoir! Thank you.”

“That was simple enough,” Eithne said. “What shall I be then, O Giver of Peerage?”

Ruadhan thought for a while. “Truly, I am not sure what to offer you, of the sun-touched bark…”

“The Sun’s Squire,” Caoilfhionn said.

“Ah! That’s it!” Ruadhan nodded decisively.

“That is lovely,” Eithne said. “I shall hunt in honour of the sun, for I was born full in her rays. And Caoilfhionn?”

They all looked at him and he ducked his head bashfully. “I dare not give myself a title, dear siblings.” But he was anxious to know what they would pick, all the same.

“He must be a Prince,” said a new voice, and they turned to see the one with pink skin being brought in to be with them. “Hello, my siblings, I am Blathnat.”

“A pleasure to meet you!” Caoilfhionn said, and they all introduced themselves. “But why a Prince?”

Blathnat smiled with a trace of smugness, gathering her leaves into a tail. “For I can see already, you have the look of a Prince, and the manner of one too. Even in such poor attire as you have now – not that I blame the Menders for this is all they have – your bearing and charm shine through.”

Caoilfhionn covered his face in embarrassment. “Oh, come. I am no Prince. But you speak of attire, would you help me with such?”

“The Tulip Countess!” cried Ruadhan, pointing at her.

“Splendid,” she said. “And my dear Orchid Prince, I would be utterly delighted to have a guinea pig- that is, model for what I plan to create with my needle. Oh, I have ambitions!”

“The youngest of us so far, and the most ambitious, even above the Valiant,” Eithne said, laughing. “Sister dear, were we not already so closely birthed, I should like to adopt you.”

Blathnat hugged her taller sister. “That is dear of you. Well, Caoilfhionn? You have not said that you accept yet!”

“Me, the Orchid Prince?” Caoilffhion protested.

“I actually think it suits you,” Cathaoir said.

“Come, give in,” said Eithne. “No one need know of it besides us.”

“Very well,” Caoilfhionn said. “I shall wear it in secret, and try to live up to it.” Once he got past the grandiose nature of the title, it was _terribly_ romantic and he loved it.

“And we five were born this day,” said Cathaoir, looking out the window to see the sun had set. “Hail, siblings!”

“Hail!” said Eithne, dancing for joy. “Though our paths part us, ever shall we be close in spirit. Especially with Caoilfhionn, for he has the hardest part.”

Caoilfhionn laughed. “Oh, Eithne, I will not be the only one with challenges to overcome. But I thank you.”

Ruadhan reached over and messed up his leaves. “Ah, but you’re the scrawniest of us all, and you’re to go on a Wyld Hunt? For an Elder Dragon? Good fortune, my Valiant Brother.”

“You doubt him?” Blathnat said, resting her hands on her hips as Caoilfhionn patted down his leaves.

“Nay, Sister, only that if he were a little sturdier, he might find it easier.”

“Oh well, I cannot change that,” Caoilfhionn said. “And at least I have magic to aid me.” He twirled a hand, conjuring up a tiny spark of flame to illuminate the darkening room. He’d been experimenting with it ever since he felt the flow of magic within him. Everyone had a little magic, but it seemed he himself had a lot. He had already decided to be an elementalist. It had come so easily to him in the Dream, surely he could do well with it in waking life.

“That you do,” Blathnat said. “And once I get my hands upon a needle, you shall be clothed as you wish, as well.”

“For which I’m ever so grateful,” Caoilfhionn said. All his problems were solved! He hoped that they would ever be so easy – and in his newborn innocence, ignored the feeling that they wouldn’t.

Cathaoir clapped his hands. “Then let us to bed, brothers and sisters, for we have a busy life beginning tomorrow! Sleep well, all!”


	2. True Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Level 10 quests!
> 
> Reminder that Caoilfhionn is pronounced 'kee-lin'. There's a Sylvari Lionguard in Bloodtide Coast named Kealin, incidentally.

2: True Love

Caoilfhionn was only a few weeks old, fresh and new and brimming over with eager life – well, that wasn’t saying much, most Sylvari were, even many of the older ones. The world happened very quickly, but he was quick himself, and though he sometimes floundered, it never stopped him having fun and indulging his curiosity.

For now, he was infiltrating a camp of the Nightmare Court with his new friend Tiachren, to rescue Tiachren’s lover, Ysvelta. The Court had taken in the two young Sylvari knights as new recruits, and Caoilfhionn stared all about him in fascination. The Courtiers looked like normal Sylvari, though they tended towards wearing brambles and sharp-edged leaves more than the Sylvari of the Dream, but he could feel their hearts were unkind. He… could not disguise his own heart, and hoped they would simply explain his demeanour to themselves as ‘fresh from the pod’. Their glances were sharp as they took note of him and Tiachren, but he really just felt emboldened. What a dare it was, to be walking plainly through a camp of those who would murder him instantly should they know his real plan!

Tiachren was looking in every direction as well, and as they reached the back of the grove near to a waterfall, he gave an exclamation and hurried forwards. “My beloved Ysvelta! Thank the Pale Tree, you’re all right. Quickly, come with me. We have to get out of here!” His face was a beautiful expression of love and hope, alight in a way Caoilfhionn had never seen on anyone before.

Ysvelta was a lovely woman, with skin a shade lighter blue than Caoilfhionn’s and dressed in beautiful clothes of lavender, green, and gold, with a face given to enchanting smiles and a voice given to bell-like laughter. She let Tiachren take her hand, but she shook her head and smiled, leading him towards the waterfall. “No, Tiachren. I cannot go with you.”

“But Ysvelta, I don’t understand. Don’t you love me?”

Ysvelta reached up to stroke his face tenderly. “With all my heart, dear knight! We will both stay. Come with me, and we will thrive in the garden of Nightmare.”

Tiachren gasped and drew back. “These people are evil. You aren’t one of them. Return to the Grove with me, and put all this behind you.”

“I cannot, love,” Ysvelta said, looking up at him pleadingly. “The Nightmare Court has shown me the truth. Ventari’s Tablet is false; the Pale Tree is lying to us. Don’t you understand?”

“I-I… I do not,” Tiachren said, his voice shaking. “Ysvelta, what are you saying!?”

“It is marvelous!” Ysvelta said, smiling more widely, even as she pulled away from Tiachren. “I have been chosen to lead the next attack on the village of Astorea. The Court will free them – and I will free you.”

“I-I… I…” Caoilfhionn could veritably hear Tiachren’s heart breaking as his voice cracked.

“So it’s true,” Caoilfhionn murmured to himself. “Once you join the Nightmare Court, you change. Ysvelta, you cannot return to the Dream, can you?”

“No!” Tiachren burst out. “I can’t accept that. I won’t!” He knelt before Ysvelta. “Please, my love-” Ysvelta laughed merrily and turned to leave. “Wait, where are you going? Come back!”

She turned to smile at him, but there was a hard edge in it. “If you love me, Tiachren, then meet me where our hearts began! You remember the place…”

“Ysvelta!” Tiachren jumped to his feet, reaching out for her, but she had cast an illusion and disappeared. “Where have you gone? What have they done to you, my love? _Ysvelta!_ ”

Caoilfhionn grabbed his arm. “Get hold of yourself, Tiachren! We must leave, now!” Caithe had materialized out of the shadows, daggers drawn, beckoning to them. “Come on, Tiachren!”

* * *

When they had killed Renvari and won free of that dreadful shadowy place, Tiachren stopped, running his hands feverishly over his leaves. “They forced her to say those things. Ysvelta isn’t evil. She’d never fall to Nightmare. If I could get her away from those courtiers, I know I could bring her back to the Dream.”

Caithe shook her head. “I warned you that we might be too late, Tiachren. Nightmare never relinquishes those it has enthralled. You must let her go. If you chase Ysvelta, you will fall into Nightmare as well. We must grieve her loss – and move on.”

“How can you be so certain?” Caoilfhionn demanded. “Surely some have returned to the Dream…?” His question faltered halfway through.

“I am certain,” Caithe said quietly. “You must believe me.” She turned away, brisk and stern. “Ysvelta said the Nightmare Court is going to attack Astorea Village. Are we going to risk innocent lives to chase Tiachren’s futile hopes?”

Tiachren drew himself up resolutely. “You must do as you think best, Firstborn. As for me, I will not abandon Ysvelta. Caoilfhionn, you’ve been a good friend. Please, be my friend now – help me save her. Whatever they’ve done, love can heal it.”

“Don’t throw your life away,” Caithe said to him.

“Caithe, I’m sorry… but Ysvelta is my reason for living. Without her, I am already dead.”

Caoilfhionn hesitated, but not for want of decisiveness. Tiachren’s belief was so strong, so overwhelming, it caught his breath. Was that what it was like to be in love? “I will go with you, Tiachren. I will help you bring back Ysvelta.”

Tiachren’s face lit up in joy. “Thank you, Caoilfhionn, for believing in love! Living or dead, I must go to Ysvelta. She is my world.”

Caithe’s hands clenched into fists; she did not normally let slip any emotion, but now Caoilfhionn felt a wave of pain from her. “A fool’s world, Tiachren, built upon delusions. Love until your heart breaks; it will not change the truth. I go to warn the villagers of Astorea.” She walked away, vanishing into the undergrowth.

“Come quickly!” Tiachren cried, beckoning to Caoilfhionn. “Ysvelta said I’d find her where we first fell in love. Let us go to her as swiftly as we may!”

But as they journeyed, he began to sober. “Caoilfhionn… if… if Caithe is right, and I am on a fool’s errand…” He paused, unwilling to speak on. Caoilfhionn waited. “Do not kill her. I… do not want to kill her, and yet I would not suffer any other to…”

“I will not fight her,” Caoilfhionn promised. At least, not unless Tiachren were dead first. “I will protect you against all else.” He paused. “What is it like to love so truly?”

Tiachren could not help a broad, beaming smile. “It is… indescribable, really. I’ve already told you how she is to me – my light, my world, my life. But how love makes me feel…” He thought. “It makes me feel like a better person. That I would ever do my utmost to make her happy, for her mere presence makes me the happiest among men. And she has said the same.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Caoilfhionn said, smiling back at him. “I should like to feel that way someday.”

“I wish you the best of fortune,” Tiachren said, patting him on the shoulder, sounding very wise for all that he was really only a few months older than Caoilfhionn.

* * *

A couple hours later, they came to a sheltered jungle garden. Tiachren breathed deeply. “This place holds many memories for us. Perhaps I can use those memories to entice Ysvelta back to the Dream. This was our private garden. Ah, Ysvelta! You still remember.” He nodded decisively. “We can save her! Love will find a way.”

There were several people inside, but Tiachren ignored almost all of them, pointing suddenly. “Look! There she is. My lady is so beautiful. Quickly, before I lose heart.”

Tiachren pushed boldly through the ferns to approach Ysvelta, who sat demurely at the top of a little hill, but Caoilfhionn found himself stopped by one of the Nightmare courtiers. “Welcome, stranger. Mistress Ysvelta waits for Tiachren, but you are also welcome to join Nightmare.”

“I’m not here to join you,” Caoilfhionn said sharply. “I’m here to save Ysvelta.”

The courtier shook her head and chuckled. “You speak so passionately, but you don’t know. She’s already saved – and soon too shall be Tiachren.”

“You won’t touch him,” Caoilfhionn said fiercely. “I’ll stop you.” Though the odds were against them; there was the two of them, against four courtiers, two with bows, two with daggers – and Ysvelta, if it came to that.

The courtier smiled. “We shall see.”  
“My love, I knew you would come,” Ysvelta said to Tiachren, who knelt before her. “Do you remember? This is the clearing where you first said you loved me.” She smiled gently at him.

“I still bear the shield you gave me that day,” Tiachren said, pulling the Shield of the Moon from his back. “I still love you. I want you by my side again. Please listen to me – the tablet guides us. It bears wisdom, but encourages each Sylvari to decide their own path. It’s not evil, and neither is the Mother Tree. You’ve been deceived.”

Ysvelta rose gracefully to her feet with a laugh – and that hard edge was back. “Oh, dear heart. The Nightmare hasn’t deceived me. It has freed me! It can free you, as well. Leave behind Ventari’s shackles and take my hand.” She reached out to him, a proud, sinister light in her eyes that did not suit her. “Together, we will conquer Astorea, and then the Grove. We will bring Nightmare to the Pale Tree herself – and free our people, forever.”

Caoilfhionn pushed his way past the other courtiers. “Listen to her, Tiachren. Nightmare has changed her. Is this truly the woman you love?”

Tiachren’s head fell, his face crumpling with pain. “No. Ysvelta wouldn’t say such things. I… Forgive me, my love. I would give everything I have to bring you back, but I cannot follow you where you now stand.” He rose, and turned to go – even now, he would not fight her, would he?

Ysvelta’s face twisted with fury. “No! You can’t leave me. You mustn’t.” She lunged forward and grabbed his arm, clinging to it with impassioned longing. “I would _die_ for you… and I will kill to have you!”

The courtiers turned on Caoilfhionn, and he flung himself forwards, desperately flinging up a shield of Earth around himself to ward off the initial strikes. Then he was upon the closest one, stabbing him with a blade of Earth and darting off again before they could catch him.

Ysvelta was struggling against Tiachren, who was holding her back from throwing herself at Caoilfhionn. “You took him from me! I’ll _kill_ you!”

“Ysvelta, stop!” Tiachren cried. “Please, don’t do this!”

They would not attack Tiachren; Ysvelta still had hopes of turning him once she had gotten rid of Caoilfhionn, he knew. So for now it was time to zig-zag between the shrubs and try to get the others off his back. He heard Ysvelta cry out; Tiachren had pushed her aside to draw his sword and come to Caoilfhionn’s aid – and none too soon, for he tripped over a fallen log, landing on his side, a courtier standing over him with blades raised. Tiachren fell upon that one and stabbed him through the chest. Caoilfhionn scrambled up, sending a blast of fire out at the other dagger-wielding courtier, the first wave of a deluge of fire that caught the courtier and burned her entirely, screaming. Tiachren had raised his shield against the other archer, and now charged against him.

The three of them faced each other. Ysvelta’s face was dark with anger, but she softened it as she looked on Tiachren. “My beloved Tiachren. Love me as you once did, and all can be mended between us. I will fight to my last for you.”

Tiachren went to her and took her in his arms, and kissed her. “Ysvelta, stop. Come back to me. Let go of the Nightmare.”

She snarled suddenly and shoved him away, sending him tumbling back down the hill. As he picked himself up, she raised her arms. “Creatures of Nightmare, rise up, show your power!”

Spiders and wolves dashed from the undergrowth; whether they were real or manifestations of Ysvelta’s mesmeric power, Caoilfhionn couldn’t tell and it didn’t really matter. “I have them!”

“Right,” Tiachren said grimly. As Caoilfhionn laid down Fire and Earth before the bestial enemies before them, Tiachren drew his sword against and walked towards Ysvelta – and struck against the bubble shield that she had thrown up at the last moment.

For the first time, Ysvelta’s voice faltered. “Please, Tiachren. Why are you doing this?”

“I have no choice, love,” Tiachren said thickly. “Please believe me. I can’t allow you to hurt anyone.” Another blow, and the shield shattered.

Ysvelta cried out. “I love you! I always have… always will…”

Tiachren, already weeping, pulled her impaled form to him in a last embrace. “My beloved Ysvelta… Forgive me…”

Slowly, he lowered her still body to the ground, and knelt beside her, covering his face with his hands – and they were yellow with her sap.

Caoilfhionn slowly approached the young knight. “I’m sorry, Tiachren. I hoped that you were right. I wish we could have brought her back to the Dream.”

Tiachren sobbed, his handsome face creased with grief. “Caithe was right… My heart is broken. I… I can’t feel anything but pain and emptiness. I’ve lost my true love. I don’t know what to do.”

Caoilfhionn knelt beside him and gently reached out to him. He didn’t know what to do either. This was all far beyond his experience, and the grief radiating from Tiachren was drowning him in its intensity. He ached in sympathy, body and soul, but to understand the death of someone beloved… He could not comprehend it. At his touch, Tiachren turned and embraced him, his tears falling onto his coat, and Caoilfhionn pulled him close with his arms about his shoulders.

The words came slowly, softly, and he hoped they did more help than harm. “Try to remember Ysvelta as she was before all of this. Remember her sweetness, her light, her love. Tell others about her, and let those memories soothe you. The real Ysvelta loved you. She would be proud of you for standing strong. For trying so hard to rescue her.”

“You’re right,” Tiachren said. “She would want me to remember us as we were that day in the forest, when we sang beneath the sun.” He wept on. “But it is so hard…”

“Maybe we should speak with the Mother Tree,” Caoilfhionn said.

“Yes… yes. Perhaps she can ease my mind. Nothing will ease my heart… Let us return to the Grove.” But just for another moment, he had to lean his head into Caoilfhionn’s shoulder and squeeze a little harder. Caoilfhionn bore it patiently.

He had a lot to think about. He had not imagined that such pain could be possible – certainly, it was not that surprising, the Dream had hinted that the world was a dangerous and often cruel place, but he had just never bothered to think about it before. Why should he? He had no personal basis for comparison until now.

And yet to see Tiachren’s undying, loyal, _believing_ love for Ysvelta… By the Pale Tree, he _wanted_ that. To love someone so much you would die for them – as Tiachren would have, if Caoilfhionn hadn’t been there – was an idea that thrilled him from his leaves to his toes. To near-glow with joy, as Tiachren had when speaking of Ysvelta, upon seeing her, before learning of her transformation, to have someone to champion, to have someone to inspire him to great and valiant deeds… Even if he and his hypothetical love were parted and he experienced the same grief that tormented Tiachren, he still wanted it with every fiber of his being.

But who might he love? And who might love him in return? Anyone might do… but he wanted someone kind… someone gentle… someone whom he could admire in everything they did, someone as romantic as he was. Man, woman, Human, Norn, he didn’t care, only that they could be beautiful to him.


	3. Elementalists and Embroidery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interlude to introduce Tharash's Asura Elementalist, whom I don't know how to write, so Tharash wrote him for me.
> 
> Final reminder that Caoilfhionn is pronounced 'kee-lin' :)

3: Elementalists and Embroidery

Caoilfhionn stared at the Asura. He’d never seen one before, and to see a being so small and yet so self-assured was fascinating, especially out in the jungles of the Brisbane Wildlands, bending over some device near-invisible in the undergrowth.

The Asura didn’t look up. “Yes, can you help yourself? I’m busy.”

“Ah, er, my apologies,” Caoilfhionn stammered out. “I suppose that was rude of me, wasn’t it?”

“Your chatter is also-” The Asura finally looked up, running a hand through his short, warm brown hair, and his pale blue-green eyes brightened. “A Sylvari! Of course, it makes sense now. You’re a rather poncy one, aren’t you? Are you sure you should be out here all alone?”

“You’re so tiny,” Caoilfhionn rejoined reasonably, a hand going self-consciously to his dark green cravat. The Asura wasn’t too badly dressed himself, in well-cut white and light blue. He carried a small sceptre at his side. “Should you?”

The Asura snorted. “Shows what you know, silly plant. I’m an accomplished geo-kineticist.” He looked up at the Sylvari’s blank expression, sighed audibly, and said: “I manipulate earth, fire, water, and air.”

“Oh! So do I!” Caoilfhionn twirled his dagger with delight, sending a spray of water arcing through the air above him like a rainbow. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Huh, woulda pegged you for one of those hallucinogenic jesters with all the purple you got going on. Fascinating! You should come with me as I collect my readings so we can discuss it more.” The Asura added _sotto voce_ , “…And so I can study my first Sylvari. Stranger than I expected.”

“I would be delighted! My name is Caoilfhionn, pleased to meet you.”

“And I’m Wegaff. Right, so…” Wegaff began to poke at a… glowy pocket tablet thing, muttering as he did so. “Subject name… k…a…e…l…a…n.”

“I beg your pardon, it’s actually C-a-o-i-l-f-h-i-o-double n.”

Wegaff lifted his gaze to stare at him in disapproval. “You may as well call yourself Cauliflower with all those extra letters. By the Alchemy.”

“But-”

“Come along now. These readings won’t take themselves, even though I tried to invent a golem to do just that…”

It was a little exhausting, keeping up with the Asura through the caves and the forests; Caoilfhionn might have had a natural advantage in his familiarity with nature, but Wegaff had a different natural advantage at being small enough to easily pass through many places Caoilfhionn struggled to go. Wegaff fussed that Caoilfhionn would get his boots and coat muddy, but truly that was a small matter; Blathnat’s tailoring was good and strong, and resistant to the worst of stains. He suspected she used magic to aid her.

At length, they returned to a place Wegaff called Mrot Boru, where Wegaff strutted into a small lab, calling out for… a fork? “Forkk! Sporkk! Where in the heck are you?”

“Right here, right here,” came a chorus of exasperated Asura voices, and two more Asura appeared, who looked so like each other that Caoilfhionn struggled to tell them apart. “Golly, that’s an interesting specimen! Where’d you find it- him?”

“He looked lost, so I took him under my wing.”

“I wasn’t lost,” Caoilfhionn protested weakly. “I am Caoilfhionn…”

“Well, you sure looked it. You look like you ought to be in Divinity’s Reach, get-up like that.” Forkk and Sporkk nodded solemnly in agreement; Caoilfhionn couldn’t tell them apart.

But more importantly, his confusion was nearly overcoming his curiosity. “Erm… So… what do we do now…?”

“Why, I thought we’d continue our discussion. You really don’t compute your maginamics?”

“Er… no. It’s all in the feeling. The sun’s power, the flow of water… you can feel it all, can’t you?”

“Why yes, of course I can, but as I was just saying…” Wegaff’s gaze turned to his lab assistants. “Tell the Cauliflower about the Seventh Law of Maginamics.”

“Magic cannot be created-”

“-nor destroyed-”

“-and is infinite.”

Wegaff raised an eyebrow ridge. “Half answers don’t get you into college, boys. What can we derive from this?”

One of them waved his hand high. “Magic flows towards a state of equilibrium! Therefore-”

“-Any concentration will seek to dissolve itself and normalize the flow,” finished the other.

“Exactly!” said Wegaff. “And that is why you _always_ calculate your stability matrices, Forkk.”

The younger Asura blushed. “It was just _one_ time…”

Caoilfhionn had actually managed to mostly follow that, but he didn’t understand how it related to the actual casting of spells. “I still believe it’s the feeling that is important. To know where a stream flows, you need but put your hand in the water.”

“Well, most people can’t stick their hand into the flow of magic, but perhaps you Sylvari have a sixth sense for it, being magical in nature and all. In fact, you not all that unlike an elemental.” Suddenly Wegaff let out a short whistle of startled intrigue. “Now _there’s_ a theory we ought to test! No, don’t worry, I’m not going to dissect you.”

“I wasn’t worried until you said so,” Caoilfhionn said, eyes wide. Did Asura really do that?

“Most test subjects are. And when the Inquest is involved, with good reason! But perhaps I should observe you in action some more. Take some readings. Would you like to come along for upcoming field tests?”

Caoilfhionn laughed. “Very well! I shall be delighted to join you, unless I am on an important quest.”

“You have more business than frolicking endlessly in the woods? If that’s the case, then _I_ will join _you_.”

“You would do that?” A new friend! Truly! And his first new friend who was not another Sylvari. “My siblings would be glad to hear it! They worry about me, you know.”

“Siblings, hmm? I don’t suppose they’d want to visit my lab as well?”

“Perhaps they would, though this is a little far from civilization for them.”

Wegaff pouted and glared. “Excuse me!? This is civilization!”

“Ah… yes, of course. But there’s a lot of wilderness in between the Grove and Mrot Boru, and my one brother is a Mender, and my one sister is a Tailor…”

“I suppose _that’s_ true. Although I prefer to think of it as a very large test field. Anyway, this isn’t my real lab. This is just a temporary arrangement on loan for me to parse my results quickly.”

“We’re actually based out of Rata Sum,” one of the others, possibly Forkk, said.

“You ever been there?” the other, maybe Sporkk, asked.

“No, not at all,” Caoilfhionn said.

“Of course not,” Wegaff told them. “He was staring at me like _I_ was a specimen when I found him. But of course, you should come visit. You haven’t lived until you’ve visited Rata Sum.”

“I should be delighted! In fact, I am not on an urgent quest at the moment, so when you are finished here, I could return with you and you can show me everything.”

“Everything, hey? There’s a _lot_ of off-limits areas, but I’ll show you everything the tourists see – and some of my own personal favourite bits. And my _real_ lab, of course. It’s much more impressive than this one. Oh, and Sporkk, see if Professor Gorr is available for tea. I’d like to run this new theory by him, and I’m sure he’d love to meet our Cauliflower.”

“Done!” Caoilfhionn bent down to take Wegaff’s hand and shook it. “I’ll be in the neighbourhood, at the village of Watchful Source. I’m looking forward to it!”

* * *

It seemed Blathnat had a new outfit for him every month, nearly every time he visited. “Do you do nothing but work on clothes for me?” he asked this time, laughing as she eagerly showed him her latest creation.

“No indeed! I put this one out in a week, and then I go back to working on clothes that everyone else commissions me for. Do you like it? I left off the cravat this time, I decided a roguish open collar to show off your collarbone might work for a change.”

“I did like the cravat,” he said, “but this embroidery is marvelous. And the colours, beautiful as always. You’ve done a wonderful job, as usual.”

“Oh, well, it’s not like you can’t change clothes,” she said with a wink. “And yes, this colour combination is what suits you best – the dark violet and royal blue bring out your leaves, the emerald green grounds it all, and the royal rose and stream blue highlight and accentuate. In short: You are the Orchid Prince, at least to us your siblings, and you must look like a flower or I haven’t done my job correctly.”

Sylvari knights could look like flowers. He’d seen a couple of Human knights at one of the Lionguard’s fortresses and they didn’t look like anything. “How long do you intend to create clothes for me? Surely you can’t do this forever.”

“Perhaps I can and I will,” Blathnat said, giving him a haughty look. “I am the Tulip Countess. I can make whatever I want.”

Caoilfhionn laughed. “Then I shall wear whatever you make.”

Blathnat tapped his nose. “Pale Tree can only hope you don’t regret saying that.”

“By Ventari’s Tablet…” What was his sister getting him into?


	4. Love at First Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO IT'S ROMANCE TIME (Level 20 quests)

4: Love at First Sight

“I wish for Valiant Caoilfhionn to meet my eldest child,” the Mother Tree had said when all was said and done with the Quest of the Knight of the Moon. Caoilfhionn had instantly thrilled to the notion; he knew of Trahearne the Firstborn, the oldest even of the Firstborn, the scholar who had spent his entire life studying Orr, and looked up to such a person perhaps even more than Caithe, though she had mentored him so patiently during his first few weeks. She too knew what it was to be a Valiant, and to be an adventurer, someone who actively fought in the defense of others – Caoilfhionn was still clumsy at the actual fighting part, but he watched her and did his best, and she encouraged him.

But Trahearne, the scholar, the necromancer, surely there was so much he could learn from such a one as he! Even if what was rumoured about his Wyld Hunt sounded… so romantically, depressingly hopeless. So it was with great anticipation that he received and responded to a summons from Caithe asking him to come to the common house at the base of the Grove, a month or so later.

A Sylvari brushed past him to leave as he entered; Caithe was in the chamber beyond, speaking with – surely that must be Trahearne – yes, she had said his name. “While we’re waiting… Trahearne, it is good to see you once more within the Grove.”

“It is hard for me to return,” Trahearne said quietly. “Each time I do, I feel more and more distant.”

Caithe reached out to rest her hand on his shoulder. “Let the Mother shelter you. It will pass.”

Caoilfhionn hovered just outside the door. “Pardon me?”

Caithe looked up and smiled, dropping her hand. “There you are, Valiant Caoilfhionn. Come, meet Trahearne.”

“It is an honour, Trahearne,” Caoilfhionn said, smiling and bowing deeply to the man.

Bright yellow eyes regarded him solemnly, in a thin face overshadowed with neatly-kept leaves. “I’m glad to meet you, Caoilfhionn, but I’m afraid we have no time for proper welcomes. There is an urgent matter at hand.”

By the Pale Tree’s leaves, his _voice_! Many Sylvari had melodious deep voices, his brother Cathaoir for one, but he’d seldom heard one like Trahearne’s. And his face, and his leaves, and his bearing – wait a moment.

Caithe took up the tale, which was fortunate, or he might not have heard much of the rest. “Just before you arrived, a messenger brought news of three attacks by the Nightmare Court. None of our knights are in a position to help right now. I can aid one, Trahearne another…” She looked expectantly at Caoilfhionn.

Who needed no further invitation. “I’ll take the third. Where do you need me to go?”

Caithe relaxed her body slightly, though her face remained stern. “They’re besieging the Warden outpost of Falias Thorp. Make your way there as quickly as possible, Caoilfhionn, and lend a hand.”

“At once!” Caoilfhionn bowed again, and Caithe nodded and ran for the door.

Trahearne followed more slowly, at a brisk trot, and Caoilfhionn matched him – they were both magic users, and did not have Caithe’s stamina.

He couldn’t help casting a few sideways glances at Trahearne as they walked, from curiosity and… and… But Trahearne looked at him full on at the door. Oh no- Oh, he was simply speaking. “I am glad to meet you, Caoilfhionn. Caithe has had few friends since… I think you will be good for her.”

 _What about you? Could I be your friend as well? Could I be good for you as well?_ Caoilfhionn wanted to ask, but surely two moments after meeting was _not_ the time – even a sapling like him knew that much – so instead he asked: “May I ask a question?”

“Of course. How may I aid you?”

“How well do you know Caithe?” Stupid question, they were both Firstborn, they’d known each other longer than any other Sylvari ever.

But Trahearne smiled patiently. “We are both Firstborn, tasked to face the challenges of Orr. She is a sister to me, in spirit and in purpose.”

“Ah! I have two sisters. And two brothers. My elder brother is a Warden. I hope he is at Falias Thorp, they will not fall if he is there.”

“I would sooner hope that he is not,” Trahearne said to himself, and Caoilfhionn looked at him with some confusion and concern. “Never mind. Here’s the waypoint; I will teleport from here. I hope to see you soon.”

“Fortune be with you!” Caoilfhionn said, and activated the waypoint himself.

* * *

He still had to walk a distance from the destination waypoint, which gave his mind time to churn over his confusion. He’d looked forward to meeting the most magically-inclined of the Firstborn, yes, but that his wits should be overcome like this at hearing his voice… that his sap should flow quickly in his veins at the mere thought of him now… His eyes were so complex and intelligent, an intense yellow stare that contained shades of gentleness, wisdom, patience, humour, melancholy…

It wasn’t confusion at all. This was… infatuation, was it not?

He’d fallen in love! The mere realization made his eyes sparkle, and his mouth to laugh; he near jumped for joy. The fact that he’d fallen for a Firstborn upon a minute of conversation mattered little to him. A Firstborn surely had no lack for admirers, but unrequited, unattainable love was as romantic as requited love, so long as it inspired one to great deeds and to be one’s best self. And the brief length of their relationship so far… Caoilfhionn was too young to pause at that. He was in love! This was the happiest moment of his life yet.

But this was no time for personal joy, for up ahead the village was aflame…

A lavender-coloured Sylvari stood in his path, eyes flashing, teeth bared, and a pistol pointed at him. “Who are you? Are you another of these murderers?”

“I’m a friend,” Caoilfhionn assured him. “My name is Caoilfhionn, and I’m a Valiant sent by Caithe to aid you. Who are you, and what’s going on?”

The pistol lowered cautiously. “My name is Malyck. The Wardens said these creatures are called the Nightmare Court. They’ve set fire to the camp, and cut down everything in their path. We’re outnumbered, besieged, and most of the guard has been injured. I’m all that’s left of the defense.”

“Let me fight with you, Malyck!” Caoilfhionn cried. “My brother is a Warden, is he here? His name is Cathaoir.”

“Cathaoir? He was taken by the fiends already. You are close?”

Caoilfhionn gasped, panic surging through him. No, he was a Valiant! He could not falter, just because his brother was in danger! “Yes, we are. I must help you! Please!” Was this what Trahearne had tried to warn him of, to be careful what he wished for? Would that he had been there sooner, to fight for his brother’s honour and safety!

“I was about to warn you that I would allow no harm to befall the Wardens, but it seems you have your own reasons to protect them. Very well. Help me drive back the villains still in the camp, and then we’ll speak further.”

Caoilfhionn brandished his focus and his dagger. “I’m ready. Let’s get them!”

* * *

This was the most dangerous thing he’d ever done, more dangerous than confronting Ysvelta and her guards with only Tiachren at his side, more dangerous than swimming to the bottom of the krait tower at Slaver’s Deeps, more dangerous than lingering in Wegaff’s laboratory – yet though there was such danger, he was alight with purpose and daring. He was disguised as one of the Nightmare Court, with Malyck beside him, and the prize for his deception would be his brother and the other Wardens kidnapped from Falias Thorp.

“I sent those fools to bring me the Harbinger, and instead they come back with whimpering Wardens!” The Knight of Embers, the captain of this band of traiterous courtiers, rounded upon him as he approached her, her autumnal garb rustling about her. “You there! You’re new. Can you follow orders, courtier?”

It was easy for him to affect ignorant surprise. “Uhm… me? Er… yes, my lady?”

“Then you’re in charge,” she snapped at him. “Make these wretched wardens talk. Do whatever it takes. Hit them so hard the Pale Tree can feel it. They _will_ tell me where to find the Harbinger, or they will die feeding Nightmare with their agony.”

His sap was boiling, but he had to stay calm. “My lady knight? May I ask? What is a harbinger?” If they knew any more than Malyck himself did, he could bring news to Caithe and Trahearne.

The Knight chuckled darkly. “It is the Pale Tree’s Doom, and Nightmare’s vindication, and my Dark Hunt. When it is found, all will be made clear. Now go!” She strode off, to the upper reaches of the camp at Joy’s End; the prisoners were in the middle level and so Caoilfhionn did not hurry, intending that she should be well away before they executed their plan.

There were two guards before the thorny cage that held the captive Wardens. Caoilfhionn nodded to them both as he stepped forward as if to enter… and then stabbed one with his dagger, and Malyck shot the other.

The Wardens jumped up as the gunshot resounded deafeningly from cavern wall to cavern wall. “By the Pale Tree’s wisdom – Malyck! What are you doing here!?” The Captain of the group was the first out as the two opened the cage, and she gave Malyck a big hug – never mind his spiky disguise.

“Caoilfhionn!” cried Cathaoir in astonishment, treating him likewise. “You came for us!”

Caoilfhionn grinned up at his taller brother. “Of course! Malyck and I could hardly leave you to languish! He came up with this plan, he’s very clever.”

But Malyck’s gunshot had alerted _everyone_ within Joy’s End, and now commotion arose all over. “The Wardens are escaping! Don’t let them get away!”

“Time to cut and run!” Malyck cried, ripping off the helm of his disguise and twirling one of his pistols. “Let’s go, Caoilfhionn!”

“At your side!” Caoilfhionn exclaimed, brandishing his dagger and his focus. Cathaoir grabbed the sword of one of the fallen Nightmare courtiers and followed him closely.

“Stay behind me, brother. I’ll show you how Wardens fight!”

“Haha, no need for me to hang back! I’ve learned much since we last met!”

* * *

Caoilfhionn was the last to arrive at Watchful Source, it seemed, for upon walking into the village, he caught sight of Trahearne by the fountain, talking with one of the Wardens – and heard whispers running around the edge of the clearing. There was a feeling of unease from most of them, and he wondered why. It was disquieting to witness such wide-spread dislike, and of someone he loved, and for no apparent reason, too. The odd one out was a young Sylvari woman who whispered to her companion: “Look! It’s Trahearne, one of the Firstborn. I’ve never met him.”

“He spends all his time in Orr,” said her friend. “Don’t you think he’s… strange?”

“Yes, but… in a good way!” The girl had felt Caoilfhionn’s curious gaze, it seemed, because she jumped and turned to see him – well, maybe he _had_ been standing a bit close, and he’d stopped upon hearing the exchange… “Oh, hello. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s all right,” he said, smiling. “You have a crush on him, don’t you?”

She giggled and clasped her hands to her cheeks, a burst of yellow luminescence showing faintly under the shadows of the trees. “I do! I know, how silly of me, right?”

“It’s very sweet,” he said. Of course, he understood exactly what she felt! Though he wasn’t admitting it unless directly asked! “I’m sure he’d appreciate such attention.”

Her eyes brightened, and she ran off in Trahearne’s direction. She gasped as she drew closer. “Oh, my. You’re really him. Trahearne.”

Trahearne jumped, looking up in surprise, then recovered himself, making a low, flustered bow. “Um… yes. I suppose I am. Hello.”

She skipped away again, smiling fit to burst. “Ooh. That was Trahearne! I dreamed I’d meet him!”

“What was that about?” the Warden asked Trahearne, who shrugged, still flustered.

Caoilfhionn swallowed his own giggles with much effort, eyes dancing merrily. “I think she likes you.”

“That is… most unexpected.” Trahearne looked away; if it had not been so broad daylight where he stood, Caoilfhionn was sure he would have seen a spray of luminescence flush across his face, leaves, and body. It was adorable! He was twice as in love as he’d been before. “Come, Caoilfhionn, let us collect Malyck and head out.”

Perhaps he could gently inquire… “So you… do not… have anyone to…”

“I do not,” Trahearne said, a little shortly, and Caoilfhionn decided to drop the topic. He’d learned what he wanted. Not that it changed anything.

Instead he called out to Malyck, who was on the edge of the village, looking out southwest down the Zinder Slope. “Malyck! Hello!” More Sylvari had been watching Malyck even more cautiously and uneasily than they’d been watching Trahearne, and several of them fled at their approach and Caoilfhionn’s shout.

Malyck turned, and smiled wryly. “It’s good to see a friendly face.”

“I’m glad to be here!” Caoilfhionn said. “I’m sorry I’m a bit late, but I’m here now! Where are we going, Trahearne?”

* * *

“It’s good to see Trahearne once more,” Amaranda the Lonesome said to Caoilfhionn when all was said and done at her hermitage. “He so rarely comes back to the Grove…”

“Really?” Caithe had suggested similar, before. “Is there a particular reason he stays away?”

She nodded sadly. “Oh, yes. Most Sylvari simply don’t understand his Wyld Hunt. ‘Impossible’ is a kind word. ‘Laughable’ is more common…”

His sap was growing heated at the thought. Surely this was what he had witnessed at Watchful Source. “How rude! Don’t they have any confidence in the Dream? That must be so hard on him.”

She favoured him with a smile. “Well put, young Caoilfhionn. I knew I liked you.”

He grinned at the compliment. “Have you foreseen anything about me, then?”

Amaranda’s gaze grew distant. “The Dream often whispers of you. Your choices will shape this world. You will know great sorrow… and great victory.”

“That’s amazing!” Caoilfhionn’s eyes were round with wonder. “A more glorious vision I could not ask for. I will accept both this great sorrow, and this great victory. Thank you for telling me.”

“I wonder,” she said, distantly. “You do not know… well, it is not for me to say.”

He bowed. “I apologize if I have offended?”

“No, no. Perhaps it is I who have offended. Go in peace, Caoilfhionn.”

“Thank you, Lady Amaranda.”

* * *

The Knight of Embers had fallen. Caoilfhionn straightened from his battle stance, gasping for breath. It had been a difficult fight, the Knight of Embers with her greatsword and her two subordinates, and the three of them – Malyck with his pistols, Trahearne with his sceptre, and Caoilfhionn with his dagger, none of them heavily armoured – all trying not to get cleaved in two by that fearsome sword. But now all three of the Nightmare courtiers lay dead before them, and sweat trickled into his eyes before he wiped it away.

“Well done,” Trahearne said to both of them, breathing nearly as hard. “That was not easy.”

“I didn’t expect it to be,” Malyck said, grinning, sheathing his pistols with a flourish. “But it was necessary, and we did it.”

“We fight well together!” Caoilfhionn said, trying not to let on how much of a limp noodle he felt now. “Malyck, you-”

“There you are!” Caithe’s voice rang out through the trees, and they turned to see her running up to them. “The Pale Tree told me where to find you. I have to tell you, Malyck’s tree…”

“We know,” Trahearne assured her. “The Nightmare Court nearly found out as well. We only managed to slay the Knight of Embers in the nick of time.”

Malyck’s face grew grim. “Still, this is only the beginning. Even if they don’t know the reason, the court will keep searching for their ‘harbinger’. If I stay here, others will try to convert me to Nightmare. They’ll discover my secret.”

“Oh,” Caoilfhionn said, wilting slightly.

Malyck turned to him. “Sorry. Were you about to ask me to stay?”

“I was,” Caoilfhionn said. “You are a good friend, and I… I know it’s difficult when the people who don’t know you stare at you, but I wish to spend more time with you.”

Malyck smiled broadly. “You are too kind, Caoilfhionn. I will certainly miss you, and Captain Banya, and Trahearne. But this is for the best.”

“He’s right,” Caithe said. “Faolain will hunt him, and I promise you: she does not give up.”

“Somewhere to the west, at the source of that river, there’s another tree.” Malyck glanced at the mountain west of them, then to the south, where the river lay. “Maybe even another city, with more Sylvari like me. My family. I’m going to find them. When I do, I’ll tell them about the Grove, and I’ll return with an army to help fight the dragons.”

“That sounds splendid, Malyck,” Caoilfhionn said. “Perhaps I should go with you-”

Malyck shook his head, though he seemed touched. “I do not know how long it will take, and you have duties here to your own people. I cannot ask you to spend indefinite time on something so selfish.”

“It’s hardly selfish, but… I will do as you say,” Caoilfhionn said. “I hope you are not lonely on the way, and that you have the best of fortune.”

Malyck hugged him, and Caoilfhionn eagerly returned it. “Don’t worry. We’ll meet again, some day. Caoilfhionn, you’ve been magnificent. You have truly shown me loyalty and honour, and I shall never forget it. I shall carry those virtues to my people, wherever they are.”

“Safe journeys, and may you find your home!” Caoilfhionn said to him. His eyes prickled, but he mostly felt glad for Malyck, and not so sad at this parting – and that surprised him, a little. It was sure they’d meet again, that must have helped. And Malyck knew he had a few good friends in this part of the world! The prospect of people like to their own, more similar than any other race could be, and yet different, was fascinating and intriguing and he dearly hoped to see what it would be like. Someday!

* * *

In the evening, Caoilfhionn wandered the Grove slowly, resting from the weary day, looking above him at the lovely branches of the Mother Tree. All about him felt peaceful and easy, and the first stars were coming out between the great leaves.

And he caught sight of Trahearne, alone, high up on a branch and still climbing. Curious, and heeding the desires of his heart, Caoilfhionn began to climb after.

He did not have the physical strength of his brothers or Eithne, and he was still tired from before, so he was rather out of breath by the time he came up even close to Trahearne. The Firstborn was half-way up the Tree, looking comfortable as he sat on a vast leaf, gazing out over the jungle valleys where the fireflies danced, hugging a knee to his chest. His luminescence was a vibrant magenta as it pulsed slowly through his dark green leaves and skin. Caoilfhionn knew his own was shining a lighter shade, the same peachy-pink as his eyes, contrasting with his dark blue skin and violet leaves. Caoilfhionn called out from the edge of the leaf: “Hello! Did you want to be alone, or may I join you?”

“Caoilfhionn?” Trahearne’s yellow eyes turned on him sharply, startled, and he looked troubled for a brief instant, and then he smoothed all negative expression away, from his face if not from his spirit. “Since you took the trouble to climb all the way up here, I can hardly turn you away…”

“No, no,” Caoilfhionn said easily. “I wanted to be with you, but I don’t wish to intrude. Please, as you wish.”

Trahearne shook his head with a little smile. “Come sit by me, then. _You_ I don’t mind.” He turned his gaze up towards the stars again as Caoilfhionn took a spot beside him. “So many of the others… doubt me. I am the eldest, and the strangest, and it is… tiring, to deal with all that negative energy.”

“I understand,” Caoilfhionn said softly, though even he didn’t really follow, and what he did follow he knew he didn’t _really_ understand, not the way Trahearne did. He watched his profile, angular and sad, and felt his own heart sigh in sympathy. He wanted to cast away that sadness, to see that dark face smile – Trahearne was beautiful in his lonely melancholy, but everyone was more beautiful when they smiled, and he had the feeling that if Trahearne really, _truly_ smiled before him, he might die of happiness. “I wish Mother could do something about it, but…”

Trahearne nodded. “I would not have her trouble them on my behalf when I can simply go about my business in the rest of the world, where I need to be anyway, out of their sight and mind.”

“I wanted to ask, actually,” Caoilfhionn said. “Would you tell me more of your Wyld Hunt? I heard a little from Caithe, but you are the one who knows it best, of course.”

Trahearne smiled wryly. “I am challenged to cleanse the land of Orr. It is a mountainous isle of ancient history, that rose from the seas but a hundred years ago from its sinking two hundred fifty years ago. It is covered in cities of ruins, towering, beautiful, alien, sad… And they still will be, even when Orr is freed, but at least they will not tower over a black and blasted landscape of oily rot and blight. In my Dream, I saw it green and growing again, no longer a land of death, but of peace.”

Caoilfhionn brightened in wonder. That melodious voice rolled through him so… “That would be amazing. Is it even possible?”

“We don’t know yet. I’ve seen nothing to show that… Well, I must not lose hope.”

“I will believe in you,” Caoilfhionn declared passionately. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

“I _must_ ,” Trahearne said morosely. “And most of Tyria’s people take my studies to be something evil, as if my interest suggests that I should wish to enact another Orr rather than save the one we have. As if I became a necromancer to bring death, rather than to learn how to grant life. They do not _know_ …” He trailed off with a face of pain, then shook himself. “But come, let us speak of more cheerful things. Tell me more of your brothers and sisters.”

He’d hardly heard enough about Trahearne’s quest, but he acquiesced to the request, and chattered on about his wise older brother, his devoted younger brother, and his skilful sisters, until Trahearne’s spirit relaxed for real. And that was magical to Caoilfhionn, to know that he’d been a real help to the person he loved, in his own small way. And not even through his mastery of the elements, not through valiant heroics, but simply through talking of light matters.

He’d run out of things to say, and and though to hear Trahearne’s soft, even breathing just over the cool, gentle wind made his sap sing  in his veins , after a few minutes of silence he began to feel awkward. So he stood and stretched. “I had better turn in. It’s been a long day.”

“And you are of the Cycle of Dawn, are you not?” Trahearne asked, wry again.

Caoilfhionn laughed. “Aye, I’ll be up early again tomorrow. Can’t waste an hour of light when there’s a whole world to explore!”

Trahearne smiled, beautiful like a fox. “I shall stay here a while longer. I was born during the Dusk, and the calm darkness suits me. But you go on. I’m sure I shall see you again soon.  And… Caoilfhionn, thank you. ”

“Good night,” Caoilfhionn said, trying not to let his luminescence blush too strongly as he bowed and headed down.


	5. A Friend to All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing my Human Ranger Damara, who is, fun fact that I never got around to expounding on, half ethnic-Krytan from her dad and half Elonan from her mom (not sure where in Elona yet, though I'm leaning towards Vabbi even though I haven't been there yet in-game and I don't remember what it was like in GW1). Contains snippets of the level 30 Human quests.

5: A Friend to All

“Wegaff? You wanted to see me?” Caoilfhionn said, cautiously sticking his head into Wegaff’s lab. This was only the second time he’d been to Rata Sum, and he still found the Asura city as incomprehensible as the first time. At least they respected the natural world around them, allowing moss and ferns and vines to creep over unused stone surfaces, though it just contrasted more starkly with the enchanted glass and glowing holograms.

“That’s right,” Wegaff said, ushering him further into the lab with an expression of extreme glee. Caoilfhionn came forward and saw four containment cells, each holding an elemental: fire, ice, lightning, and earth. “I’m calling these G.U.E.N.s. Aren’t they lovely?”

“Gwen?” Caoilfhionn echoed, admiring the graceful form of the fire elemental. “Like Gwynhyfar. That’s a lovely name!”

“What? No. G – U – E – N, Glyphic Unstable Elemental eNtities,” Wegaff said proudly. “I’m still tweaking the matrix parameters, but they’ll never reach true stability. Still, it’s a decent first result, and there’s some incredible potential. Who hasn’t dreamed of constructing a golem out of mere dirt, or whatever is at hand, in just a few seconds?”

“I… see.” He didn’t, but that was Wegaff all over. “My word, that is a lovely stone elemental.”

“Is it? I assume you’re talking about the physical aesthetic appeal again. Anyway, I’ve only run them through lab tests thus far, but I’ve been itching to take them out for a walk in Metrica. What do you say?”

“You know I can’t possibly say no to that. But don’t you think they each deserve a name of their own? Gwen is splendid, especially for the ice elemental, but the others…”

“I was going to call this one Mr. Sparkles,” Wegaff said, pointing at the lightning elemental, “just to ruffle Zojja’s feathers, but something’s got her aggravated lately… more so than usual, that is, and I like my lab the way it is: intact. Forkk and Sporkk wanted to give them names as well, but between them they have less creative imagination than a sun-dazed Skritt. You Sylvari have a feel for language, don’t you? Just make it _sensible_. Like… Plasma-based Hypodextralic Pseudoformation. But shorter.”

Caoilfhionn laughed, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “You are aware I am a _Sylvari_.”

“I know, I know. Just don’t give me word salad.”

“I shall try,” Caoilfhionn said. “Short names, hmm? Bryn, for this earth elemental, perhaps?” He thought for a while, looking back and forth at all of them. “Perhaps it would come to me easier were I to see them act – they are so joyless, held as they are! Ah, but I have an even better name for the ice elemental: Eira. Dai, for the air elemental, and Tanwen for the fire elemental?”

Wegaff shrugged. “Better than Cauliflower – at least, if the spellings follow any common sense.”

“I think you’ll be pleased by that this time,” Caoilfhionn said.

“Then… tell you what. If you can replicate them out in the field, I’ll use your names in my thesis.”

Caoilfhionn gasped a little. He’d never summoned a golem before, or even tried, and he had the feeling it was completely different from creating a leaf hound… but – “If they must otherwise be condemned to some awful Asuran name, then I _must_ succeed for my honour.”

Wegaff rolled his eyes.

* * *

Caoilfhionn was itching to see new lands these days, and Wegaff was eager to accompany him, so together they had been adventuring north and east, through the dangerous wilderness of the Kessex Hills, through the quieter wilderness of the Gendarran Fields, until they came to the great city of Lion’s Arch. They’d been on the road for about three weeks, although they were not traveling quickly by any means. There was no rush to go anywhere, and Wegaff indulged Caoilfhionn in sticking his head into every grotto and pond, and helping every being who so much as suggested that they might want a hand with something. It was all very edifying.

Ah, but Lion’s Arch! Caoilfhionn could not be still in this fascinating city for a moment – the rickety-looking buildings made whole-sale out of ships, or at least in the manner of ships, the canals threading under it all, the great fountain with the clockwork ships, the festival-like energy surging through the air, the noise of shouts and laughter and gulls crying. And yes, also the stench, the filth, the roughness… more than once a drunken Human or Charr got in his way, slurring uncouth things in his direction.

He actually only lasted an afternoon before he was back out in Gendarrea Fields, in the little village of Applenook. It was much more to his liking – Human enough to be exotic, yet clean and green and full of the scent of apple trees and corn. Wegaff had been reluctant to leave the city, his unflappable self-assurance carrying him through it all with aplomb, but he saw how overwhelmed his companion was becoming, and acquiesced with good nature.

They were heading back westward in the growing twilight when Wegaff’s enormous ears pricked up. “I hear… undead.”

“Where?” Caoilfhionn asked anxiously, drawing his dagger and focus.

“And fighting. Up yonder, south of the bridge.”

And so they ran together, through the murky dusk, off the road and towards the beach on the river’s curve, where there was the flash of steel and the report of pistols. Several Humans, Norn, and a couple Asura were engaged in battle with a small army of undead. Caoilfhionn jumped into the fray with a shout and a blast of icy water, as Wegaff unleashed a lightning bolt with his sceptre.

It wasn’t until he’d heard his third “Yarrrr!” that he realized he was helping pirates. There was no way to know if they were friendly sailors from Lion’s Arch, or mere brigands who had been driven out for unconscionable crimes. At any rate, no one deserved to become undead, did they?

When they had fallen, a Sylvari suddenly appeared beside Caoilfhionn, all in black, and whispered “Better not to get involved here, Valiant. Take your friend and move on.” Before Caoilfhionn could respond, he had disappeared again. As he looked around to catch a glimpse of his mysterious brother, one of the humans stepped forward. “Ya with the other new folks lookin’ to join up with us?”

“No, good sir, we are only travellers passing through,” Caoilfhionn said, before Wegaff elbowed him aside.

“You’re talking too fancy for them, Cael. We’re not lookin’ to join anyone.”

“Actually, I understood your leafy friend there well ‘nough, but we’ll leave it at that then. The crew o’ the Ravenous don’t need any more – though I might be makin’ an exception for you two,” he said, turning to a Human and an Asura.

“Then we’ll be on our way,” Caoilfhionn said, bowing. “Best of luck!” He got the sense of danger from them, and had no intention of staying around or offending them.

Wegaff was slow to depart, and Caoilfhionn nearly reached down to drag him back to the road, but his friend gave him a considering look and spoke in a low voice. “There’s something off here, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely, and that Sylvari told me not to get involved. I think we should heed his advice,” Caoilfhionn said in kind.

Wegaff finally began to follow him away, but at a slower pace than he would have liked, gesturing at the fallen undead as he went. “Well, I’m curious where those Risen came from, and why they went for a few stranded pirates like progeny in a candy store. Also, I think I’ve seen that Asura, back in Rata Sum. Meaning that either some experiment went horribly wrong, or something far more sinister. Come, let’s hide under that bridge, and see what happens.”

“You want to spy on them?” Caoilfhionn asked, appalled.

“What, you think it’s ‘dishonourable’? You pull hoodwinks on your enemies all the time!”

“Yes! That’s being daring. This is hardly daring at all.”

“It’s called field observation, and you’re not supposed to disturb your subject of study.”

And so he reluctantly followed Wegaff as the Asura made his way over to the Lionbridge. There was a Human under the bridge, one who looked suspiciously at them over a drawn blade. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Er… Curiosity?” Caoilfhionn said honestly, hoping that would be enough. This was ten times as suspicious as what the Sylvari had said to him, but now he wanted to find out what was going on. If there was something wicked here, it was his duty to stop it! “Who are you?”

“There is nothing for you to see here,” said the man. “Just move along.”

Wegaff frowned and folded his arms. “This bridge is property of Lion’s Arch, and you’re no Lionguard.”

“I’m not, but if I told you who I’m with, I’d have to kill you.” There was something chilling about how the Human said it so casually.

Caoilfhionn drew his dagger, but behind them, the water in the stream crystallized into large blocks of ice, which rose up to stand in a humanoid formation as tall as a Norn. Wegaff gave the shocked man a toothy grin. “Perhaps you’d like to introduce yourself to G.U.E.N. here instead?”

“Wegaff!” Caoilfhionn cried.

“What? This man smells fishier than Dawnside Quay on a hot day.”

“I concur, but her _name_ is Eira.”

Wegaff huffed at the correction. “Told you I wouldn’t remember them.”

The man eyed the looming elemental with apprehension. “All right, remain calm. My name is Ihan. I’m waiting for my associates. If you want answers, you’ll have to ask the Envoy-”

 _Crash!_ A well-aimed arrow pierced the golem’s neck and it exploded into fragments of ice, raining down on them. Caoilfhionn turned, sidestepping as not to lose sight of the Human, turning to see two figures approaching – a Human woman with a bow, and an Asura with an axe and a dark aura about her that coalesced into several skittering figures. The same as they’d seen before with the pirates! “Get away from him!” called the Human woman.

And then something pounced on Wegaff, something that snarled. Wegaff yelled, holding his sceptre before him as a shield, but he was knocked into the shallows on his back, the lithe quadrupedal form pinning him to the ground.

The Sylvari from before materialized silently from the shadows. “I told you to leave.”

Caoilfhionn looked around at them all. Suddenly the odds had turned drastically against them – but… “What is it you do here?”

“I think you should be telling us what _you’re_ doing here first,” said the Asura, pointing her axe at him. “Unless you really think you can take us all on.”

Caithe could have taken them on, but he was not Caithe – not yet. “Very well.” He sheathed his dagger and stood up straight, bowing politely. “My name is Caoilfhionn, Valiant of the Wyld Hunt, and my companion Wegaff and I were traveling back to our respective homelands when we heard the fight with the undead. I’m afraid your warning rather did the opposite of what you intended, and made us more curious – but if you are doing something wicked, I _shall_ fight you.”

The other Sylvari chuckled, a gravelly sound. “Haven’t been out of the pod long, have you?”

“Long enough,” Caoilfhionn said, watching them all still.

“If you think you’re going to get anything besides an arrow to the face-” began the Asura.

The Human woman put up her bow. “Is he telling the truth?”

“He is,” said the Sylvari. “This Valiant, like so many of them, cannot tell a lie to save his life.” Caoilfhionn wondered if he should be indignant or proud of that.

“Then they’re harmless to us,” said the woman, and smiled. “Caoilfhionn, was it?”

“Well, if you’re _not_ going to murder us and dump our bodies in the river, mind letting me up?” Wegaff called with a strained voice.

“Let him up, Velvet, there’s a good girl.” The jungle stalker pinning Wegaff to the muddy stones immediately left him and trotted back to the woman’s side; the woman reached down to pet it. Wegaff bounced to his feet and went to stand closer to Caoilfhionn, shaking water from his sleeves and grumbling nervously.

“Envoy, is it truly wise to tell them anything?” the man named Ihan asked.

“I think so,” the woman said. “A Valiant is like a… well… like Captain Thackeray, right?”

“That’s apt,” the Sylvari said.

“Then I trust him. The Asura…”

“I’ll vouch for my friend,” Caoilfhionn said. He wouldn’t even tell them that it had been Wegaff’s idea to nose about in the first place. “He fights for truth as I do.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Wegaff muttered, and shut up when everyone looked at him.

“I am Damara Biros,” said the woman. “I’m Queen Jenna’s Envoy to the Orders of Tyria. And my companions are…”

The Sylvari bowed. “I am Mabbran, Agent of Whispers, and my associate, Phiadi.”

“Excuse you, you are _my_ associate,” the Asura snapped, her little nose in the air. “Also, I’m sure the Asura knows me, I’m the Snaff Savant this year.”

“Eh, I never pay attention to that,” Wegaff said, waving a hand dismissively. “I didn’t even enter.”

“ _What!?!?_ ” shrieked Phiadi, her minions scuttling in agitation around her. “How can you- I oughtta-”

“He meant no offense, I’m sure,” Caoilfhionn said, stepping in hastily before the small necromancer could attack. “I beg your pardon, but what is the Order of… Whispers?”

“Not for you to know about,” Ihan said.

“Well… Ihan’s probably right,” Damara said. “But I’ll tell you what we were doing here, since that’s what you wanted to know – we were infiltrating those pirates to learn the whereabouts of a potential security risk to the Krytan monarchy.”

“Ah, so that attack must have been staged,” Wegaff said. “Gain their trust through the heat of battle.”

“Exactly,” Phiadi said, still glaring at him. “Can’t believe you don’t follow the Snaff Prize… our translocater was revolutionary…”

“Do you require any further assistance?” Caoilfhionn said. “I know little of Humans, but if the Queen of Kryta is in danger, I’ll gladly aid you.”

Damara nodded. “If you have nowhere urgent to be, I’d gladly welcome the help. Can’t have too many hands for this one.” Agent Ihan looked exasperated, but Agent Mabbran nodded in agreement.

* * *

And that was how Caoilffhion ended up working for Queen Jennah and Captain Logan Thackeray for a week. It was exciting, for of course Caoilfhionn knew by now how Captain Thackeray had been in Destiny’s Edge with Caithe! He ended up liking him a great deal. Damara as well, despite the awkwardness of their initial meeting. Phiadi and Mabbran he saw less of, though they were still frequently present as well. Phiadi and Wegaff would never get along, it seemed. Wegaff recognized her from Rata Sum, if not from the competition she had won, but refused to admit it because “It’s funnier to watch her fume about it.”

And Divinity’s Reach was a most glorious city, almost as beautiful as the Grove in a completely different way, far less natural and humid. It was brightly coloured, with banners and pennants everywhere, and at least there were many flower boxes in windows and tiny little gardens all over the city. The towers were great fun to climb and see the view from, and the feeling of sunny, down to earth activity that pervaded the city was a little intoxicating. Even its flaws, when Phiadi or Damara pointed them out to him, could not lessen his opinion of it. Humans came in as many varieties as Sylvari, it seemed! Despite the serious nature of his mission here, it still felt like a holiday to him.

They did save the Queen, in the end. How Kellach managed to summon that many undead in the throne room, Caoilfhionn could not hope to understand, but they froze just the same as they did outside. He forebore to use fire or earth, to avoid damaging the beautiful hall; between Damara’s arrows and Phiadi’s own small army of minions, and the Seraph guard and Vigil soldiers, Kellach’s assassination attempt was over nearly before it began.

The Queen thanked him and sent him on his way, loaded with a generous reward and gracious compliments. What a lovely adventure it had been!


	6. The First to Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the level 30 Sylvari quests and the return of best boi.

6: The First to Die

He’d been summoned yet again, an urgent missive from Caithe brought to him by a messenger pigeon, but he had not been far from the Grove at the time, only visiting with Blathnat in Mabon Market. She had relocated there recently to see more of the world in her own way, and sent him back to the Grove with an encouraging smile and yet another new outfit, this one natural-grown of the leaves that many Sylvari covered themselves with.

Caithe met him in the Upper Commons; she was pacing impatiently until she caught sight of him. “Excellent, you received my letter.”

Caoilfhionn tilted his head to listen. “Goodness. It sounds like there’s a commotion in the Omphalos Chamber.”

Caithe grimaced as she motioned him over to the seed lift. “The emissaries of the three Orders of Tyria are making that noise. There is a… situation. One that you are best suited for, Valiant Caoilfhionn.”

“Me? Why? What am I walking into?”

“Zhaitan’s might is growing,” Caithe said. “Its undead minions are rising rapidly on the beaches of Kryta and the Tarnished Coast. To the north, Overlake Haven is in danger. The Lionguard there are outmatched by the Risen troops.”

Ah, so he could take action against the dragon he was destined to fight. “But why are the emissaries arguing? Why don’t they just do something about it?”

“We think alike, you and I,” Caithe told him, the barest twinkle in her eye – he gathered she would have found that funny if the situation were not so serious. “But let us speak with the Mother Tree. You are about to take a step forward on your quest, Valiant.”

Trahearne met them at the entrance to the Omphalos Chamber, a faint look of exasperation fixed on his face. “Valiant, I’m glad you’re here. They’ve been going on like this for an hour.”

“I’m glad to be here,” Caoilfhionn said, a lovely feeling suffusing him at the thought that Trahearne was glad to see him, even if for practical reasons.

Trahearne nodded and led them over to where the Pale Tree’s avatar presided calmly over her squabbling children. “Everyone, please be silent! We are all assembed, and the Mother Tree wishes to speak.”

The three other Sylvari took notice of him and ceased their heated bickering, and the one in heavy armour saluted him cheerfully. He smiled back, and then the Pale Tree began to speak.

* * *

The attack had been repelled through intrepid force of arms, for he had chosen the Vigil’s plan of defense – he really didn’t see why they couldn’t do both plans, but since they wanted him to choose, he had chosen. He could feel them grooming him for leadership – but why not? He might be young, but his Wyld Hunt would demand much of him, and should it demand he lead, he sorely needed the experience.

It had happened too quickly to send word to Wegaff to ask for aid, but he did on his return, though he had yet more to do. “I have good news, Mother Tree. Overake Haven is safe, and the undead have been driven away.” He proceeded to elaborate upon all that had transpired.

“Well done,” the Pale Tree said to him with a gentle smile. “But your task is far from over.”

“Valiant Caoilfhionn, about this strange undead you saw on the battlefield…” Trahearne said to him. “I think I can help you there. The creature sounds like a lich. From the description you gave, I think I can identify it as Mazdak the Accursed.”

“Mazdak the Accursed?” the Pale Tree said, and a shudder went through her avatar, as if a cold wind had blown past her great stem. “I know that name. One of my Firstborn, Riannoc, went to destroy Mazdak many years ago. I armed him with a thorn from my own bough, a mighty sword named Caladbolg. Both were lost, never to return to the Grove.” She gave a sorrowful sigh, one Caoilfhionn nearly echoed – he knew faintly the tale of Riannoc, the first Sylvari to meet death. “Caoilfhionn, you have a chance to discover the fate of my lost son and perhaps even avenge his death.”

The Sylvari with the cocky air, Cai, raised an eyebrow. “Legend says that Riannoc chose a Human to be his squire. We know that squire survived, and though we lost track of him years ago, the Order of Whispers could find him. The Order is very good at tracking people down… even when they don’t want to be found.”

“I know it well,” Caoilfhionn said, thinking back to how he met Damara, Phiadi, and Mabbran. “But how would you find one Human in all of Tyria?”

“We’ll find out,” Cai said with a languid grin.

“Untrustworthy, as always,” Iowerth said with a sniff. “I have an alternate suggestion. This sounds like an exciting opportunity to experiment with a ritual the Durmand Priory uncovered. If cast, it lets you witness the last moments of a person’s life.”

Trahearne’s gaze turned towards Iowerth. “The mystery of Riannoc’s death has pained the Sylvari since the days of the Firstborn. Knowing his fate would help to heal that wound…” His own wound, from his body language – losing a brother, back before the Sylvari knew of death… Caoilfhionn could not imagine it. He had still not lost anyone close to him personally, but by now, twenty-five years after the Firstborn awakened, the collective consciousness of the Dream had given him a sense of death – enough to know that it happened frequently. Trahearne and Caithe had had no such knowledge at that time. “Ah, Riannoc. I warned you… I told you not to go aone. But you did not listen.” Trahearne sighed deeply. “We were all so confident. So unafraid of death…”

Caithe put a hand on his shoulder. “And still we are – but now we are wiser, too.” Trahearne nodded.

Caoilfhionn didn’t want to make a decision without having as much information as he could – for surely they were asking his opinion on how to proceed again. “Branthyn? Does the Vigil have any suggestions?”

His companion of the last few days smiled and shook her head. “Gathering information isn’t our strong suit. Instead, I’m going to go ask my superiors how to kill a lich. I’ll meet you back here when you’re done.”

“Mother, can you tell me about Caladbolg?” Caoilfhionn asked.

“It was the only weapon I ever made,” the Pale Tree answered, “and doing so took a great deal of spirit. It was meant to be the blade of heroes.”

“As he was,” Caithe said softly. “As valiant as the shining sun.”

“When Riannoc died, the blade was in his possession,” the Pale Tree said. “It has not been seen since.”

“Where was this?” Caoilfhionn asked.

“He traveled far to the north, to face an evil – to face Mazdak. When he died…” The Pale Tree paused, and both Caithe and Trahearne cast their gaze down in sorrow as fresh as morning dew. “The sun dimmed, and the Dream wept.”

“We all felt it,” Caithe said quietly. “It was like a part of the Dream was torn away… but we never knew why. Or how.”

He wanted to weep himself, and he’d never met Riannoc. “I’m so sorry, Mother. What can I do to help you?”

“Discover the truth, my son. Return the sword. That will bring me peace.”

He nodded. “I will, Mother. I swear it.”

“Very well. Caoilfhionn, the choice is yours.” The Pale Tree reached out a hand towards him.

* * *

“I’ll be waiting in the present,” Iowerth assured him, Wegaff standing by with _several_ strange gizmos to record… whatever he could. “When you return, you may be disoriented, but I will do my best to ease you into consciousness.”

“What if the ritual fails and I die in the past?” Caoilfhionn asked, standing by the simple grave marker that they thought _might_ be Riannoc’s final resting place. Iowerth had tossed out the possibility of dying a few minutes ago during preparation, and now it was on his mind.

Iowerth shook his head dismissively. “You are the Herald of the Pale Tree. The danger is real, but I believe you were meant to witness these events. You _will_ return.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me,” Caoilfhionn said, his own confidence rising.

“Then prepare yourself, Valiant,” Iowerth said, and his voice grew slower, almost trance-like, lulling Caoilfhionn into a meditative state. “Focus on the image of a Wyld Hunter, accompanied by his Human squire. He faces his enemy, a vast army of corpses. His struggle is your struggle. His courage, your courage. You are as one. Your breath quickens and your sap flows faster. Your enemies surround you. Now, in this moment, you are with Riannoc.”

And he was, as he opened his eyes – Iowerth and Wegaff were gone, the swamp looked to be… earlier in the year, more spring than summer, and before him stood a tall, handsome Sylvari, chestnut brown and jade green, with a greatsword at his back, a sword that was definitely a thorn from the Mother Tree’s branches, one edge sharp as a razor. At Riannoc’s side stood a rather plain-looking, snub-nosed Human boy with a sword of steel. Caoiffhionn was no judge of Human ages, but the boy was definitely not past the Human’s… larval? stage. He seemed to be the same height and weight as the small Humans who said they were twelve years old in Divinity’s Reach, maybe a small fourteen. Strange to think… already so old, half as old as Trahearne and Caithe in the present, and yet far less prepared to take on the world than Caoilfhionn… Neither of them showed any sign that they saw him.

“We make our stand here, Waine,” Riannoc said, gesturing to the slight hill rising out of the swamp which they stood upon. “Armed with Caladbolg, we cannot fail.” He smiled, his eyes and teeth shining in the dim light. ‘As valiant as the shining sun’, Caithe had said, and he agreed with her. Definitely of the Cycle of Noon, like Eithne was.

“The lich is powerful, Riannoc,” Waine said. “His army is vast!” His voice was high and quavering.

Riannoc laughed. “What good is power when it’s afforded to you by an evil master? What good is an army when you’re standing against love, honour, and loyalty?”

Caoilfhionn’s chest ached in sorrow. Riannoc should have been right! He so wished he were right! But if he had been right, he would not have died… and the Dream would not have taught new generations of Sylvari that evil sometimes triumphed anyway, even against the purity and truth of love, honour, and loyalty… He reached out a hand, then lowered it uselessly. Riannoc could not see him or feel his pain.

“But none of your kind has ever experienced death,” Waine said. “Do you even understand fear?” His voice cracked in fear… and frustration.

Riannoc smiled at him gently. “I don’t need to understand it. I only need do what is right.”

The boy backed away. “No! I’m… I’m afraid. I’m frightened, Riannoc! I can’t… stay…” He looked further into the swamp and gasped. “They’re coming!” Caoilfhionn looked, and when he looked back, Waine was running for his life.

Riannoc had not moved an inch backwards, only drawing Caladbolg from his back and staring down the rushing zombies with a proud smile. “Then I shall take you on!”

Here they came, and while Caoilfhionn was ready and determined to fight, he sort of understood Waine’s fear as well. There were so many, almost as many as he’d seen at the entire assault on Overlake Haven, and it was just the two of them, with no fortress at their back nor sturdy armoured companions at their side. Riannoc took a step forward, raising the great sword to strike. Caladbolg was shimmering with magical light, anticipating the battle to come.

The battle was the toughest Caoilfhionn had ever been in, pushing him to his utter limit. Fire to water to air to earth, he had to make use of every spell at his disposal, every signet he’d learned, every rapid plant manipulation he’d yet mastered, just to keep himself a hair’s breadth away from those grasping, clawing hands. For though Riannoc and Waine took no notice of him, the undead certainly did. The rattle of bones and rotting flesh, the splash of shambling steps echoed through the swamp, the mindless groans of the undead drowned out by the weighty slicing swings of Caladbolg and the crackling hiss of his spells.

The two Sylvari were thoroughly soaked and covered in mud from head to foot; Caoilfhionn skidded through the mud, leading five or six zombies on a merry chase between the trees. Until he rounded the last tree and came face-to-face with a humanoid horror, rotting flesh sagging from a slimy skull. He yelped and threw himself to the side to roll away, and a bony hand grasped his ankle, causing him to slam face-first into the mud instead. He dropped his dagger with the impact, gasping, panic surging through him as they lunged towards him, clawing at his arm; one of them reached down and bit.

Caoilfhionn yelled, clutching his focus in a vice-like grip, and a ring of fire erupted around him, scorching the undead back, burning away his fear in the primal determination to _live_. He scrambled for his dagger and spun to his feet, eyes wild, dashing straight through the centre of the cluster with a ribbon of fire trailing behind him from the point of his blade. The hastily-constructed leaf hound he’d summoned bounded to his side, snapping at the undead legs. This lot would fall soon – and then there would be more. How was Riannoc doing?

Not well, now that he had the space to look; he was using a tree to split their numbers, but against such a tide there was no hope but to become flanked by such a tactic. His armour was already cracking, and claws had raked across his handsome face, letting yellow sap ooze down his forehead and cheek. The undead were piling up before him, making a wall of their bodies; twenty lay there at least, but there were another thirty here still thirsting for blood. His smile had gone, replaced only by grim concentration. Caladbolg flashed and sang, glowing bright in the darkness of the swamp, but Riannoc was getting tired.

Caoilfhionn told himself yet again: _you can’t save him. You can only bear witness_. And then he had to run again.

When the last zombie – for the time being – had collapsed into the mud, Riannoc tottered and fell to one knee, only Caladbolg holding him up from falling forward from exhaustion and pain from his injuries. “Waine! Waine, where are you?” His voice was hoarse, and he gasped for air around it.

Waine emerged from behind his tree, wailing. “I can’t do this! I’m too scared! Let’s run away! Come on, let’s go!”

Riannoc shook his head, looking deeper into the swamp, where dark figures yet moved. “Waine – Caladbolg… the sword is powerful. With it, we still have a chance to-”

“A chance to escape, yes! Riannoc, I want to live. I have to get out of here. I don’t want to die!” He ran forward, grasping at the hilt of the sword.

Riannoc’s grip slipped in surprise, and Waine dragged the sword away from him before he could recover. “Waine! No! I need Caladbolg to kill Mazdak!” Waine backed away, eyes wide and staring, sheer terror still writ across his face, and then he fled, dragging the sword behind him. Riannoc reached out in his direction, his own voice cracking with emotion. “Come back! I cannot give up! Mazdak is coming!”

And indeed, in the shadows of the swamp, Caoilfhionn saw a familiar figure – the skeletal robed figure he had seen at Overlake Haven. Riannoc staggered to his feet, gasping and wincing, and drew his dagger as he took up a ready stance to face the coming abomination. “Forgive him, Mother… We were both… too young…”

* * *

Caoilfhionn woke with a sob. “Riannoc-!”

“Take your time,” Iowerth told him, supporting him as he sat up. “Breathe slowly. Now, tell me – what did you see?”

He was still covered in mud, and his right arm was still scratched and bitten. Tears fell from his eyes as he tried to follow Iowerth’s advice. “Poor Riannoc, abandoned by his best friend… I can’t even imagine how that must have felt. None of us had ever been betrayed before…” And he himself still hadn’t; all he knew was a dim echo of what others had faced over the short years.

“How tragic,” Iowerth said. “The Dream was young, and the Firstborn knew little of the world.”

“I feel for them both,” Caoilfhionn said. “From the looks of it, Waine was still a… a child, they call them. But Riannoc couldn’t know, couldn’t have understood what it meant to take such an untried human into battle. He didn’t know they weren’t like us. To ask a mere seedling to face an army that would cause their most hardened warriors to pause… And poor Riannoc! To die alone, defenceless, surely in great pain and heartbreak…” He wept.

“What did you say?” Iowerth said, sounding suddenly angry. “Defenceless? What happened to Caladbolg?”

“Waine stole it,” Caoilfhionn managed to say. “That was his betrayal, not that he fled in the face of danger. And yet Riannoc stood to defend him… It was the same lich from the Haven who killed Riannoc. The one it had been his Wyld Hunt to destroy.”

“We must tell the Pale Tree at once,” Iowerth said. “I’m sorry there was not more for you to do, Wegaff…”

“Not at all,” Wegaff said. “I did get some very interesting data from the beginning and end of that ritual. I’ll be compiling my findings and sending them in along with my application shortly.”

Caoilfhionn sniffled and looked up. “You’re joining the Durmand Priory, then?”

“Oh, yes. It’s been my goal since I was a precocious progeny. The application is a mere formality, of course. They already want me. But I might have less time to assist you in the future, unless I can frame it as Priory-related research.” Wegaff shrugged, packing up the last of his devices. “Sorry!”

“I think the Orders wish me to join one of them too,” Caoilfhionn said. “But I have not decided yet…” And he was in no mood to decide now, not with this vision weighing on his soul, the intimate understanding of the grief that had fallen upon the Sylvari in their youth.

“You can decide later,” Iowerth said kindly. “For now, let’s get back to the Grove. Will you come with us, Wegaff?”

“I think I will,” Wegaff said. “Sounds like you’re not done with this ‘quest’, and the more data I can collect on the whole situation, the better my application will be.”

“I’m glad to have you along,” Caoilfhionn said. “Thank you.”


	7. A Valiant's Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More level 30 quests! I really like the title of 'Valiant' for the knights-errant.

7: A Valiant’s Quest

The news had shocked the Pale Tree and all the others. They all decried Waine for cowardice; none seemed to think anything of the fact that he was a Human child, not even full-grown yet. To be sure, they hadn’t been in the vision; they had not seen the fear on the boy’s face and heard his voice. But… he’d thought Caithe, who was widely traveled, to have some sympathy, at least. But then again, Riannoc was her brother. If it were one of his own close siblings, he might not be so interested in sympathy either.

Most of which he realized slowly later – at the moment, he found his mind turning towards theirs, to share their opinion that such an act had doomed Riannoc as surely as if he’d slain him with his own hand, and so was both incomprehensible and reprehensible. Which… was true, as well.

Which meant their next task was to find the Human, now a man twenty-five years older, and reclaim the sword that he still surely had. The Priory and the Order of Whispers had both uncovered that he was using it in pit-fights outside Lion’s Arch. And then they asked Caoilfhionn to decide whether to steal it back, or to fight Waine for it.

It was no choice at all. If he was going to recover the sword for the Sylvari people, then he would do it openly, with his honour burning in his eyes.

And it was burning now, and sweat was also trickling down his face, and he was breathing hard after his first three fights with hardly a moment between. And now here down to the pit came a swaggering Human, twice Caoilfhionn’s weight and a foot taller – strong, square, lightly bearded, with a familiar greatsword on his back. He met Caoilfhionn’s gaze with an arrogant look. “I’m not afraid of you. But I am ready for you. I’ve been ready for years.”

Either he could read his face, or he said that to all the Sylvari he fought. But this time, it was true. “We shall see.”

Waine drew the sword, which did not glow as Caoilfhionn remembered it, and charged at him with a hoarse yell. Caoilfhionn blasted out an ice slick under Waine’s feet and dodged nimbly to the side as the Human slipped on his backside and flew into the wall of the pit. He climbed to his feet, cursing, and used the broad blade of the sword to block the icy blade that Caoilfhionn sent shooting his way. Now he advanced more cautiously, flicking the sword so that waves of power shot out of it at the Sylvari, trying to close enough to attack him in melee.

Caoilfhionn was not going to give him that chance, though normally he thrived on being in the thick of battle. His sap was thrumming and he ducked around a wave to flick fire back in Waine’s direction. Waine hissed as one of the streams of fire sizzled past his arm. “You cheating little-”

But he was closing quickly, faster than Caoilfhionn was going to be able to get away, and he switched back to Water, blasting a ring of ice around him to slow him down. Waine flinched, then faltered. He growled, baring his teeth fiercely, and charged again, ducking the icy comet Caoilffhionn tried to bring down on him.

He just had to stay one step ahead and keep nailing him with spells, switching to Air. He didn’t need to kill Waine. If the dark past had been weighing on him for twenty-five years, he did not need further punishment after Caoilfhionn took the sword back. He could hear the spectators, most of them cheering for Waine; he didn’t care. Let them cheer for the violent thug whose face was twisted to ugly anger. It wasn’t important as long as he got the sword back.

Waine spun, casting another two bolts of energy at him, and Caoilfhionn blocked them with a gust of wind. But that had let Waine close on him again, and now he lifted Caladbolg to strike.

Caoilfhionn ducked, and slammed a lightning bolt directly into Waine’s ribs. Caladbolg went flying across the arena to land in the dirt near the remains of the MRDRBOT; Waine went tumbling to the ground, clutching his ribs and coughing spasmically. Caoilfhionn hopped backwards – Waine was still twice his weight in muscle even without the sword – and pointed his dagger at the half-prone Human. “You’re outmatched, Waine, but I’m not here for your life. I’m here for Caladbolg. Give me Riannoc’s sword, and I’ll let you go.” Even though he’d grown to be an arrogant prick… at some point he’d only been a frightened boy who made a bad choice.

Waine snarled, climbing to his feet and wiping his nose roughly. “The sword is mine! Riannoc wasn’t worthy of it. He was willing to give his life – for what!?”

Caoilfhionn hissed in anger, rage boiling through his veins. “ _Unworthy!?_ ” He took back every charitable thought he’d ever had about Waine. He would kill him for this insult to Riannoc’s memory – Riannoc, who had been infinitely more noble than Waine could ever be, Riannoc who should have lived rather than this sniveling self-important ill-mannered _Human_. “He gave his life for his people. And for _you_ , Waine.” His voice was taut as a bowstring. If Waine were at all capable of feeling shame… he should feel it now. “He stayed to give you a head start from Mazdak. The lich would have chased you down to get Caladbolg. _That’s_ why Riannoc died.”

Waine’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “No. You can’t know. _You_ weren’t there! I’ll kill you. Then I’ll put all you smug Sylvari behind me for good! I earned this sword! I suffered for it! You can’t take it away from me!” He lunged for Caladbolg – which, Caoilfhionn realized too late, was on Waine’s side of the ring – and came at him, swinging blasts of energy in his direction with a vengeance.

The commentator was shouting to the crowd, but Caoilfhionn was not listening, the sap in his veins roaring in his ears. “Who suffered more, you who ran or the man who fought to the end!?”

Waine screamed at him. “Shut up, shut up! Riannoc was weak. He was weak! It wasn’t my fault, it was his!”

“Dishonourable lout!” he heard Branthyn call.

“How dare you-!” He was beyond furious, all weariness burned from him, calling every element to him, blasting the bigger man – fire, water, air, earth, and again. Caladbolg was said to enhance its wielder’s natural abilities, and unfortunately Waine was a very hardy fellow, resistant to magic of all kinds, it seemed, even when he was not able to block the spells with Caladbolg. It didn’t even matter. He would vent his rage and his vengeance on this ignorant-

Was this the way a Valiant of the Wyld Hunt should act? He ought not to use his power to bully those weaker than him. Just finish it and be done.

And as he came to this realization, Waine caught up to him, and instead of striking with the sword, simply jumped on him, knocking him to the dirt, closing his hands around his neck. Caoilfhionn’s gasp of surprise was cut off, his mind ablaze with panic – Fire! He clutched his focus and a shield of fire erupted around him, tearing Waine from him and throwing him back. Caoilfhionn gasped for air as Waine screamed, one hand holding his burned face, the other scrabbling to lift Caladbolg. Caoilfhionn looked up in the middle of a coughing fit to see the sword high above him, and he stabbed upwards with his dagger in blind reaction.

A blade of ice formed between them and slammed into Waine’s chest. Waine made a choking noise, and tumbled heavily to the ground, never to rise again.

Caoilfhionn slowly stood, breathing hard, shaking like a leaf, tears running from his eyes. He had too many emotions in him – rage, pain, sorrow, regret. No satisfaction. No triumph.

Caladbolg lay before him, dusty, yet still keen as the day it was plucked. He bent down and hefted it with both hands – by the Pale Tree, it was so heavy! He climbed carefully back up to the top of the ring and met with Branthyn. She was glowing with victory. “You were amazing down there! Your combat prowess is really something. I envy you the beating you gave that thug. I wish I’d been able to lend a hand. Are you hurt?”

Caoilfhionn shook his head. “I’m fine. He wouldn’t stop attacking me. I didn’t want… Should I have killed him?”

“That question is what makes you great Vigil material,” Branthyn said. “Waine had been carrying that burden for so long, it was probably a relief to die at the hands of someone who knew the truth.”

Was it? “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I could see it in his eyes. He seemed almost… grateful.” Or perhaps it was simply wishful thinking. Waine _had_ said all those terrible things. Had come so close to killing him. Caoilfhionn didn’t know. He was tired and confused and he did not understand Humans.

“Come, Valiant,” Branthyn said. “I’ll take Caladbolg back to the Pale Tree. You look like you’re about to keel over, and it looks too heavy for you. We’ll get it and you both back, and you can rest, and then we’ll find a way to make Mazdak pay.”

* * *

Iowerth had been busy while Caoilfhionn had been off with Branthyn, and with Wegaff – already a full member of the Priory – helping, had determined that Mazdak was about to assault Ascalon Settlement. The three orders all had different plans for dealing with the impending doom, and once again, they wanted him to choose – and to choose one of them to join.

He had to go off by himself into a corner of the Omphalos chamber and think, pacing back and forth, rubbing a hand over his leaves. The leaf pups who usually cavorted there came up to him and whined, and he petted them, but his mind was not on them. He was drawn to the Vigil, to their honour and glory in battle… and yet he was also drawn to the Priory, to the pursuit of knowledge, to the exploration of the world. “Where life goes, so too, should you,” was his favourite of Ventari’s teachings, after all. He wanted to ask the others for advice, but he knew already that his friends would not help him decide. What would Trahearne do? Trahearne had apparently resisted joining an Order, despite repeated invitations, but that was his prerogative as a Firstborn. Caoilfhionn had no choice. What would Caithe do? He could envision her joining any of the three.

In the end, he liked Iowerth’s plan the best. The other orders forgave him for not choosing their part, and Trahearne and Caithe both readily agreed to come, which made him glad. Of course they would come, to finally avenge their brother, but it was reassuring to have their combined fifty years of expertise with him. And as a final gesture, the Pale Tree entrusted Caladbolg to _him_.

It weighed heavily on his back… though now that they were on this quest, it was just because he lacked the physical strength of other, sturdier Sylvari like his brother. He wondered if Trahearne and Caithe would feel similarly – though Caithe, at least, was used to fighting with melee weapons.

So the five of them, including Wegaff, set out for the northern Gendarran Fields. He was overjoyed that Wegaff would come; another elementalist would certainly be useful against the undead, and he was grateful that his friend would take the time to come with him, especially as the only non-Sylvari in a party full of them. Wegaff shrugged when he thanked him. “This was the deal. We become friends, we help each other from time to time. I’m sure you’ll help me when I need a hand.”

“I certainly will!”

“Now if you’d just let me take readings of that sword…”

“No samples! Readings only!”

“Relax, I know what I’m doing.”

On the journey, he had time to tell Trahearne and Caithe the entire story of fighting Waine, including the terrible things Waine had said. Perhaps he shouldn’t have; he should have spared them that last stroke of pain, but the words came tumbling out of him without stopping, the embers of his anger flaring up again. And Caithe _did_ ask.

Caithe seethed. “I’m glad he is dead, Valiant. He was a waste of air. Now I wish I’d been there myself.”

“I’m sorry that I ever felt sorry for him,” Caoilfhionn admitted. “Saying such things about the man who died for him. Despicable.”

“You felt sorry for him?” Caithe said in confusion. “Whyever for?”

“He was not a full-grown Human, back then,” Caoilfhionn said. “You probably know better than me, but I’ve noticed that Humans do not let their… children fight, no matter how boldly they speak. Indeed, they seem to think that fighting is one of the worst things to happen to a child, even if they become warriors when they reach full stature.”

Caithe paused. “I _have_ noticed that, you are right. And you said he was afraid. Understandable. But still inexcusable. I still cannot forgive him for Riannoc’s death, nor for the things he said.”

“Agreed,” Caoilfhionn said.

“I wonder,” Trahearne said. “Did he really believe the things he said, or was he trying to hide his wounded ego and guilt? Was he only trying to bait you into anger to give himself a sense of superiority? If so, it worked – but I cannot blame you. I think even I would have done the same in your place.”

Caoilfhionn stared wide-eyed at him. “I cannot imagine that.”

Trahearne smiled wryly. “I try not to lose my temper. It can cause a terrible mess. But I feel just as deeply as any other Sylvari, though some of them disbelieve it.”

Caithe reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “I know, Brother. Were we to fall victim to our feelings easily, we should be no better than the Nightmare Court. But we must remain calm while we fight Mazdak.”

“Indeed,” Trahearne said. “To let our passions drive us, yet not control us.” He looked at Caoilfhionn with a wry, slightly anxious smile. “Do try not to almost die this time.”

“I’ll do my best,” Caoilfhionn promised.

* * *

The tomb was everything he’d hoped it would be – traps that kept him on his toes, arcane magical puzzles, friendly ghosts who helped him proceed in the name of justice and honour. With the learned intelligence and honed inquisitiveness of everyone in the party, it did not take them long to pass through to the innermost chamber – though Caoilfhionn nearly tripped over a spear trap, felt his sap freeze in his veins as the deadly spikes clipped the heel of his boot as he fell face-first onto the dusty stone floor. How he wished to be as graceful as Caithe! She should have been the one to wield Caladbolg, not he.

But this was no time to doubt his abilities or his worthiness. They had come to what Captain Bragen, their ghostly human guide, told them was the final chamber. The chamber was wide and tall, flooded with water ankle-deep, or in Wegaff’s case nearly knee-deep; in the back of it loomed the lich they had come to destroy.

As the door creaked open, the lich took a few steps towards them. “Sylvari? Here? You have long roots for such small weeds.” What was that supposed to mean? “Flee, while you still have your lives! When the human race was as young as your own, I conquered these lands and named them Kryta!”

“Now I recognize these markings!” Trahearne cried. “Mazdak brought the first human settlers to Kryta, from Orr. No wonder he is so powerful. As a mortal, he lived in Orr… while the dragon slept, hidden deep beneath the ground.”

Was that when the dragon had gotten his claws into him? Or had Zhaitan infiltrated all the graves in Tyria in more recent history? “You may have once been a hero, Mazdak, but now you’re nothing but Zhaitan’s slave. We don’t fear you!” Caoilfhionn exclaimed, drawing Caladbolg from his back and hefting it into a ready position. Iowerth had brought along a sword and shield, and drew them now as well.

“Ah, but you should!” Mazdak laughed. “Know this before you die: no weapon forged can harm me. You face your doom!”

“Geez, he likes to be dramatic,” Wegaff muttered. “I’m allergic to melodrama.”

“No weapon forged I bear,” Caoilfhionn said, pointing Caladbolg at him; it blazed with white fire. “Perhaps you recognize this blade?”

Mazdak flinched for a moment. “Caladbolg!? I thought it was destroyed, long ago. Very well, Sylvari… Let this be a battle to the death – and beyond!” He raised his arms, and more undead sprang up around him.

“Leave those to us!” Caithe cried, moving swiftly to Caoilfhionn’s left. “You take Mazdak, we shall protect your back!”

“Understood!” Caoilfhionn took a deep breath and charged forwards, seeking to slam the sword into Mazdak’s robed body. The undead lord was much taller than he was, looming over him fearsomely with his bone staff and his skull mask… but that just made him a larger target. He had not had much practice with the greatsword on their journey, but he did not intend to fail now, fighting not only for his life and the lives of his friends and the Ascalon Settlement, but for the honour of Riannoc and all Sylvari.

And Caladbolg had magic of its own. Glowing brightly in the presence of its hated enemy, it blasted beams of power out at Mazdak, far more potent than Waine had been able to muster. Mazdak snarled as it struck him – he had not moved, perhaps unused to dodging. It had not been necessary until now, had it?

But then he struck back, while Caoilfhionn was still only halfway across the room, a dark bolt of energy that halted Caoilfhionn in his tracks with agony. Already, he stumbled, using the sword to hold him up.

Mazdak snorted a laugh. “You think to avenge your dead kinsman? You will fall, as he did.”

“Never,” Caoilfhionn gritted out, taking another step forward, and another, regaining momentum, swinging another beam of energy forwards. He had to close with the lich. This was just like when Waine fought him, but Mazdak would not flit around the room the way Caoilfhionn did. If only he could get close…

The sounds of battle echoed through the chamber, and Wegaff’s spells were illuminating it with fire and lightning – he had summoned his stone golem Bryn as well, setting it to protect him from any zombie that managed to dodge his spells. Iowerth was guarding Trahearne with sword and shield, and Trahearne was flinging spells from his sceptre, causing zombies to disintegrate in their tracks. And Caithe was whirling gracefully, ripping through the undead like a panther through mice. His friends were all fighting valiantly. But Mazdak still seemed so far away, raising wave after wave of undead without hardly seeming to think about it.

The pain wracked him again, and this time he felt something physically strike him as well – a zombie had gotten through and was attaching itself to his left leg, clawing at it, biting it, tearing through his pants and ripping open the flesh underneath. Blindly, he swung Caladbolg at it, felt it yanked away by heat and light – a fireball from Wegaff had blasted it off him. “You’re clear!” Wegaff called. Caoilfhionn had no breath to answer. He invoked his Signet of Restoration and pushed forward, though his leg was still running with yellow sap and lancing with unbearable pain into his abdomen.

Mazdak was before him and he swung with gritted teeth; the lich stepped backwards, his glowing red eyes leering down at him. The staff lifted but he swung again, forcing him to step back yet again. If he could keep Mazdak from casting any more of those horrible spells, he would have the space to attack again! Once more he stepped forward-

He tripped over a hidden stone under the dark water, with his wounded leg, no less, and fell heavily with a splash. He tried to push himself up; Mazdak swung his staff, and Caoilfhionn screamed as pain raked his body – a scream that abruptly cut to a gurgle as his face slipped into the water. He couldn’t breathe-! He couldn’t see, could feel nothing but agony darting along his veins, and he rolled to flail – and breathe.

“Caoilfhionn!” shouted everyone, turning to him – they would not reach him in time – he managed to open his eyes to see Mazdak looming over him, raising his staff for a killing spell.

“I cannot be defeated! I will break Caladbolg, and you along with it!”

Caoilfhionn made a mighty effort and swung Caladbolg up, through Mazdak’s staff. The staff shattered, raining pieces of bone around him. Caoilfhionn twisted, using Caladbolg to help him spin to his feet. “No more. No more will you plague the Humans and the Sylvari! No more will Zhaitan work through you!”

“The touch of that sword is like fire!” hissed Mazdak, cowering from its light. “Stop!”

Caoilfhionn swung, putting his entire slender body behind the blow, and Mazdak fell in two, robes and bones splashing into the water, meaningless fragments of an ancient corpse.

The other undead fell where they stood, and Caoilfhionn nearly followed them, pain still wracking his body and sap-blood flowing from his leg. As it was, he sagged nearly double, leaning on Caladbolg to keep him up.

“Easy,” Caithe said, walking over to him and putting her hand on his back. “Breathe slow. You’ve won.”

He’d won. He really had! When he had caught his breath and wiped the water and sweat from his brow, he managed to recover himself, straightening to his full height – which was not much, he was the shortest Sylvari in the room. He was still no match for Riannoc, in either stature, physical prowess, or heroism. But it was enough.

He turned, sheathing the blade on his back, and announced to his friends: “Mazdak the Accursed is dead.” The revelation washed over him, and he had to smile, uncontrollably joyous despite the lingering tears of pain in his eyes. By the Pale Tree, he was in an exalted state somewhere between wounded exhaustion, and glorious triumphant exhilaration. “By the blade of Caladbolg, Riannoc is at last avenged.”

“Haha! Well done!” Iowerth was the first to congratulate him, stepping forward to shake his hand. “Novice, you’ve shown both intelligence and courage. I rate your performance as exceptional. Let Wegaff and I be the first to officially welcome you to our order.”

“Hear, hear,” Wegaff said. “Though you were as much a shoe-in as I was, even with no head for theory.”

“I’ll learn,” Caoilfhionn assured him, smiling.

“I expect you will!” Iowerth said.

Caithe stepped forward and led him to a low stone to sit upon. “Now let’s get you fixed up. That leg of yours can’t be feeling good, even with the magic I saw you use.” They fussed over him, binding his leg with bandages and placing more healing spells on it; it would accelerate the healing, though it wouldn’t cure him instantly. He was quite happy to let them do so, happy to just sit and rest.

Iowerth sat back on his heels when it was done and nodded decisively. “When I return to the Grove, I shall write a glowing review of your performance and have it set it on Gixx’s desk immediately!”

“Gixx?” Caoilfhionn asked. “Who is that?”

“You don’t know!?” Wegaff asked indignantly. “Ranked ‘Incomparable Genius’ in the Asura Colleges, twice awarded the Meritorious Service Medal of the Iron Legion – you should at least know the head of the Order you are joining!”

Caoilfhionn rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and laughed. “I apologize. I… found this all to be a little sudden.” He hadn’t been planning to join any Order until they asked him to so vehemently!

“It’s quite understandable,” Iowerth said. “You’re only a few months old, aren’t you? But he is as Wegaff says: the leader of the Durmand Priory. His intellectual brilliance inevitably led him there. He’s a bit grumpy, but astonishing nevertheless.”

“I understand,” Caoilfhionn said. “I shall endeavour to learn all I can as quickly as I can. I don’t want to let you down.”

“Don’t stress yourself,” Iowerth told him. “You should head to Lion’s Arch as soon as you are able, where you will meet your mentor and receive your first formal assignment. They’ll instruct you in all you need to know.”

“Thank you,” Caoilfhionn said. “I don’t suppose it would be Wegaff, would it?”

“Unlikely,” Wegaff said. “I’m still in the Novice rank myself. But I’m sure we could get assigned as partners.”

“I’d like that,” Caoilfhionn said, and tried to stand, with Iowerth’s help. “Caithe, what’s wrong? You’re quiet.”

“I am thinking,” Caithe said. She had turned away from them, towards the wall, but now she came back towards him, her expression far less joyful than Iowerth’s. “Riannoc died before he could fulfill his Wyld Hunt. He died because he was alone. If you had been alone… If we wish to fight Zhaitan, we must not let fear or anger force us apart. If we do not find a way to defeat the dragons, Tyria will be destroyed. Tell me, my friend… Do you think… do you think it’s possible for people to let go of their differences? To unite?”

In this moment, he believed in anything, the euphoria of victory still ringing through his soul. “Our Dreams inspire us, Caithe. We must never give up hope, or we give up on the Dream itself.”

She nodded decisively. “Then I must also go to Lion’s Arch. It is time to call together Destiny’s Edge.” Without waiting for them, she began to stride to the entrance.

“Caithe!” called Trahearne, straightening from studying Mazdak’s remains. “It is too late in the day to journey all the way to Lion’s Arch. At least let us go together back to Ascalon Settlement.”

She paused, then managed to smile. “Yes, you are right. I will go with you. Caoilfhionn, can you walk on that leg?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Caoilfhionn said. “I’m a little concerned about getting back out past the traps. I don’t know if I have the strength to find the waypoint at Ascalon Settlement…” which would be the easy way out.

“There should be a method to deactivate them from in here,” Wegaff said, already looking around. “They wouldn’t seal in the interrers… probably.”

“While they are working on that, a moment?” Trahearne said to him. “If you are bound for Lion’s Arch, then by your leave, I’ll return Caladbolg to the Pale Tree. I’ll be sure to tell her the tale of Mazdak’s defeat.”

“That is a splendid plan,” Caoilfhionn said, and gladly handed over the heavy sword. “Thank you for everything, Trahearne.”

“My pleasure,” Trahearne said.

Caoilfhionn hesitated, then asked: “Will I see you again?”

Trahearne did not hesitate. “Yes. I am sure of it. Our Wyld Hunts are linked, my friend. We will need one another.”

That sent a cascade of butterflies through his stomach – though surely Trahearne didn’t mean it like that. “I am looking forward to it.” An awkwardly formal answer, but what else was there to say?

“As am I. Come! I think they’ve found the switch. Caithe and I will aid you if you need assistance getting up those stairs.”


	8. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a river in Elona, Trahearne.

8: Denial

The closest inn was at Ascalon Settlement, and there they went after they emerged from the crypt. It was a long, long walk, and Trahearne worried that Caoilfhionn wouldn’t be able to make it with his leg in its condition, but he was either sturdier or more stubborn than Trahearne had given him credit for, though he seemed very glad to arrive when he did. As for himself… his brother’s sword was a weighty burden, and one he bore with solemn acceptance.

Not everyone had known of their task; the dangers of causing a panic had been too great. Still, the local Seraph leader, Lieutenant Lokam, knew about it and told the innkeep to allow them free drinks for the evening. Trahearne took a glass of red wine and after a suitable amount of time in the company of the others, went to sit in the corner with Caladbolg and his journal.

Some time later, he looked up as he heard stumbling footsteps, and Caoilfhionn staggered over, clearly unsteady not just from his leg but from inebriation, a bright smile stretching his handsome face to its limit. “Tra-Trahearne! Hello!”

“Hello,” Trahearne said, smiling back. “Had plenty to drink?”

“Sure!” And Caoilfhionn tripped over a chair, almost putting his face into the table but catching himself just in time. Trahearne half-jumped up, too late to be of assistance, but Caoilfhionn, balance or no, came right up to him and hugged him. “I wan’ed to say, thank you!”

“Er, you’re welcome,” Trahearne said, more amused than ever, but leaning as far away from this intrusion into his space as he could get without prying the young man off him. He smelled distractingly of floral cinnamon. “What for, though?” He’d already thanked him. Had he forgotten?

Caoilfhionn looked up at him with the most beatific smile. If he had not been dead drunk, his earnestness would have caught Trahearne’s breath completely, with those wide coral eyes shining with innocence. As it was, he was in considerable danger anyway. “For bein’ here. For bein’ you!”

“…I think you’ve had quite enough to drink,” was Trahearne’s only coherent response. “Shall we get you to bed before you pass out on a table?”

“Huh?”

He sighed. “Bed. Now. Come along.” He put an arm around Caoilfhionn’s shoulders and steered him in the direction of the stairs. Along the way, he caught Caithe’s eye, gestured with his head to the stairs and the burden he was carrying. She nodded, then made her own gestures to Caladbolg – she’d keep an eye on it.

He made it to an empty room, even with Caoilffhion’s head snuggled distractingly into his collarbone, and deposited him on the first bed. He couldn’t even get the coverlet pulled back before he did, with Caoilfhionn clinging to him like he was. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he’d catch cold. Humans just thought it odd when Sylvari didn’t use blankets. “Wait here.” Yes, there was a water pitcher and clay mugs, and he poured water for him. “Drink this.”

“I’ve _been_ drinkin’,” Caoilfhionn objected.

“That you have. Drink it anyway.” He would be all wilted come morning if he didn’t take in some actual water as well.

Caoilfhionn did as he was told and then curled up on the bed. “G’d night, Tr’hearne.”

“Good night, Caoilfhionn.” And there he was – out like a candle.

Trahearne looked down on him in silence several minutes more, before he turned and slid down to sit with his back against the bedframe. “What are you doing to me, sapling?” he asked quietly, running a hand over his face. “Amaranda said you were destined for greatness… but I cannot become so attached yet…” And yet he was anyway. Even though there were a great many people who vaguely disliked him for reasons beyond his control, many people who respected him for his knowledge, and several people who owed him favours, there were still very few people who really _liked_ him. As a friend. Unconditionally. Caithe, Amaranda, Izu, young Sieran…

And most of the time that was fine. The Mother Tree loved every one of her children, including him, and such friends as he did have were much appreciated, though really actually not very necessary. He spent most of his time alone, moving stealthily through a long-dead land, small and green amidst massive black stones; having a friend on Orr would only bring them both into danger. He _liked_ being alone. He was of the Cycle of Dusk; he had been born the first of all of them; there had been a time, even if only for a few hours, when he was completely, utterly unique in all the world. Never lonely, for his Mother had been there for him, but alone.

And now there was this vibrant orchid-coloured ray of brave sunshine bursting into his life like the dawn, who apparently did not care that he studied the dead, who did not care that his Wyld Hunt was futile, who knew all the things that everyone else mocked and yet only looked at him with admiration and joy, as he had tonight. It was… refreshing, and gratifying, and brought him happiness. And _that_ … was frightening. He had to wonder – how much would it hurt, if this bold young Valiant fell in battle in the near future, as he had nearly fallen that day? Life was so terribly fragile, and all his efforts could hardly protect any of it… let alone renew it… Did he even deserve to be happy, after so many years of… not exactly failure, but…?

“What _am_ I going to do with you?”

He laughed quietly in self-deprecation. He wasn’t going to do anything yet. Caoilfhionn would join the Durmand Priory and go off to see the world, and he was going back to Orr after this; their paths would probably not cross for a long time. And perhaps then his feelings would quiet within him, which would be for the best. Caoilfhionn would grow wiser, and learn not to stare at him with such unguarded reverence, and then he would not be in such danger.

But… he imagined they would meet again, sooner or later. Caoilfhionn’s Wyld Hunt would lead him to Orr someday, if he lived long enough, and together with Caithe, they would try to put an end to Zhaitan and give him even the chance to attempt to fulfill his own Wyld Hunt. If that happened… he would be glad to see him again.

* * *

Caoilfhionn came back to consciousness in waves, and regretted it. As soon as he was awake enough to move, he clapped both hands over his forehead and let out a groan.

He sensed someone leaning over him, and heard Trahearne chuckle. “Had a bit too much last night, hmm?”

“What have I _done?_ ” he groaned dramatically. “I regret _everything_.”

Trahearne found that very funny, it sounded. “Ah, well. You’re young. Here, drink this.”

He dragged himself to sitting with greater effort and discomfort than anything else he’d ever done in his entire short life, moaning as his skull throbbed. Blindly he took the cup Trahearne held for him and drank it. “It’s bitter!”

“Powdered willow bark, among other things,” Trahearne said. “It soothes pain. You should be feeling better in less than an hour.”

“Pale Tree’s grace, I hope so,” Caoilfhionn said, finishing the mug and lying back down, putting his pillow over his head. “I’m ready to visit the Mists now.”

Trahearne laughed. “The Mists can wait. I’m going down for breakfast with the others. We’ll wait for you.”

That made him feel a bit guilty, but there was nothing for it but to hope the willow bark worked.

At length, he thought the throbbing grew a bit less, and he managed to peel himself out of bed and found his boots. He only dimly remembered the previous night… trying as many different drinks as the tavern could serve, discovering how delightful it was to be tipsy, going over to… oh no.

But Trahearne had been there when he woke, had taken gentle care of him, had seemed amused with him… so perhaps he had not embarrassed himself too much? Or was that wishful thinking? Perhaps he’d blurted out something ill-advised and now Trahearne was laughing at him in his head-

That didn’t seem the kind of thing he would do. Not after how awkwardly he’d taken the attentions of the young woman at Watchful Source. No, he _probably_ hadn’t said anything too foolish. Even if he had, all he could do now was pretend he hadn’t, and go get breakfast.

He tried to be cheerful at breakfast, and Wegaff and Iowerth helped. Caithe had already left for Lion’s Arch, but Wegaff would be going with him, and Iowerth with Trahearne, when he was finished eating.

When he was done, it was time to bid farewell – perhaps for a long time. He hadn’t thought about it, but with the conclusion of this quest, he was bidding farewell to the Grove, to Caledon Forest, for surely the Priory would send him all over Tyria. It was exciting… and a bit sad, as well. To leave home so completely…

The Grove would always be there, though. He could always return. But would Trahearne be there?

“Well,” Trahearne said, outside the inn, Caladbolg on his back, “it is time for us to part ways. Caoilfhionn, I wish you all the best with your friend Wegaff and the Priory. Know that if you should need me, I will be there. Our Wyld Hunts will bring us together once more.”

He managed to smile, and he had to ask: “You… wouldn’t be interested in coming with me, would you?” Once he delivered Caladbolg to the Pale Tree… It was too bold, asking a Firstborn to join him, but he had to try anyway!

Trahearne shook his head, but tempered it with a wistful smile. “No, I think not. I have more research to do on Orr. You’ll do well without me, I know it.” He paused awkwardly, and Caoilfhionn didn’t know what to do either. At length, he bowed. “May your path be filled with adventure and joy. Until we meet again.”

“Safe travels!” Caoilfhionn wished him, and watched them walk through the western gate.


	9. Raven's Shaman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Level 40 quests! Introducing Annhilda, Tharash's Norn Guardian and soon-to-be guild leader of Caoilfhionn's guild!

9: Raven’s Shaman

Returning to Lion’s Arch was less of a culture shock this time. Caoilfhionn knew what to expect, both from the surroundings and the people, and he didn’t so much as jump when a Norn staggered past him in the outskirts, waving a tankard and bellowing insults to everyone she saw. The centre of town was more peaceful, with more… ‘ordinary’ people gathering near the beautiful lion fountain. Now that he looked at the place from a new perspective, it was not overwhelming at all. People thrived here, Sylvari included. The gulls stirred his heart, the towers of masts and rigging, the slosh of the waves against the docks, the smell of seaweed.

He caught sight of Caithe, sitting alone on a bench near the Asura gates, her arms folded and a pensive look on her face. “Is everything all right?”

She looked up at him, a hurt deep in her eyes. “They are frozen in that moment. The one second when we split apart. Why can’t they move beyond it? I don’t understand.”

“Sorry?” He sat beside her. Wegaff hovered a short ways off, unobtrusive.

“I met with the other members of Destiny’s Edge, an hour ago.” She shook her head. “They quarreled about the same old things – Logan leaving, Snaff’s death. It’s been so long, I thought they might have become ready to move on.”

“A death leaves a wound in the survivors,” Caoilfhionn said softly. Young as he was, he’d already seen it in Tiachren and Caithe herself. “As the Pale Tree mourned when Riannoc died, so too do they mourn.”

Caithe’s gaze sharpened, though she stared out across the bay. “They are wasting time while the dragons grow stronger. I must find a way to make them see.”

“We will. You are not alone, Caithe.”

She looked at him again, and this time she seemed to really see him. “Not alone… because you are here. Yes. I will hold onto that, through the long nights ahead.” She stood, and so did he, and she offered her hand to shake. “Take care, my friend. You will hear from me soon.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “Be well!” She smiled vaguely and headed in the direction of the Asura gates.

* * *

The inside of the Black Lion headquarters was so entrancing, filled with wondrous and mystifying and rare things, that he nearly forgot he was supposed to be meeting Magister Sieran at the back of it. Wegaff tugged him along. “Are you going to grow stalks for your eyes next? Come along, our new mentor is waiting!”

Caoilfhionn perked up as he heard a Sylvari accent from up the stairs. “Stop _worrying_ , Kekt! One little side-trip, and I’ll have the sproutlings home at the Priory in no time. It’ll be cherry!” Her voice was so full of laughter he couldn’t help but brighten in response. He took the stairs two at a time to see if she were the one he was sent to meet, and met a lovely Sylvari woman whose _joie de vivre_ was fairly bubbling from her face. She turned to meet his eager gaze and clapped her hands. “Oh, here you are! You must be the new novices I was sent to retrieve. I’m a Magister of the Order, but we don’t need to use titles. Just call me Sieran!”

“Happy to meet you,” said Caoilfhionn, taking her hand and bowing over it. “My name is Caoilfhionn. I’m looking forward to working with the Durmond Priory.”

“And I’m Wegaff. In case they forgot to mention it, I already completed an assignment,” Wegaff said. “Just haven’t been to the actual Priory yet.”

“That _is_ our destination today! But first – I know I’m supposed to take you straight back to the Priory, but I’d like to take a little side trip. While I was waiting for you, Explorer Kekt here was telling me this _really_ interesting story about an old dwarven tomb – and guess what? It’s right on our way! I’ll still take you to meet Steward Gixx at the main Priory building, but I want to have a bit of _fun_ first.”

The Asura that Sieran had been talking to stomped his foot and waved his arms. “Magister Sieran, you’re not listening to me! We don’t even know if the story is true. What if the tomb doesn’t exist? What if it’s just a legend?”

She laughed and waved him off. “Oh, Kekt, stop being a spoilsport! If I ignore this, those skulky dredge might find the tomb first, and how would _that_ turn out? They’d destroy it! Come on. It won’t hurt anything to go look around a bit. Caoilfhionn and Wegaff don’t mind, right?”

“This is why I joined the Priory, of course I’m coming,” Wegaff said.

Caoilfhionn laughed. “Exploring an ancient tomb on my first day in the Order? Sounds like fun. I don’t mind at all.”

Sieran jumped for joy. “Then it’s settled! Our destination is Molent Summit. Let’s go!” She strode to the stairs with a bouncy step, fully expecting them to follow instantly.

Kekt shook his head as Caoilfhionn turned to follow. “Magister Sieran’s a bit excitable. By the Alchemy! She was supposed to take you to the Priory, not off on an adventure!”

Caoilfhionn shrugged. This turn of events suited him just fine. “I’d better keep up. Be seeing you!”

* * *

“Er… Sieran…” Caoilfhionn said, staring at the map by the light of a nearby torch. “This is the _opposite_ of _‘on the way’_.” The tomb location she’d just pointed out to him was on the eastern side of Lornar’s Pass from the Priory, which was on the western side right by Lion’s Arch.

“It’s _fiiine!_ ” Sieran said, hardly pausing in the middle of the tunnel that led from Lion’s Arch Bay into the Shiverpeaks. “We’re not expected back until dusk, and it’s still mid-morning – we have _lots_ of time!”

“That’s not what you- never mind.” Caoilfhionn jogged to catch up to the other two.

“That’s not the point!” Wegaff said. “Sieran is quite right to consider this the most effective use of our time. The important thing is the preservation of whatever history we can acquire before something happens to it, particularly dwarven history, which is so rare nowadays.”

“Yes, indeed,” Sieran said. “The dwarves are almost extinct, you know, but in their time, they knew a lot about dragons. This tomb’s _completely_ unexplored. If there hadn’t been a little earthquake, it would have stayed buried beneath rocks and ice. Kekt’s old scrolls said this was the tomb of a dwarven prince. It might have…”

Caoilfhionn drew his breath in as they left the tunnel, suddenly not listening, stunned at the glorious vista before him. He’d never been in the mountains before, _real_ mountains, and the Shiverpeaks were dazzling beyond measure. Knifing up into the pale, robin’s-egg-blue sky above, swooping down to smooth glacier-carved valleys, dotted with stern pines, covered with the most beautiful glittering whiteness he’d ever seen… They stretched into the distance, beyond his sight, endless rows of stone and snow. Yet again, Tyria astonished him with its beauty and variety. One would never guess that an hour before and a mountain away they’d been in the semi-tropical region where Kryta sloped down to the Sea of Sorrows.

He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, just a little. He… had not expected the wind to bite so hard, and though his current fashion covered his body completely, it was made of light material suited for tropical weather, such as the Grove had.

Sieran, whose clothing had vents along the sides and shoulders, didn’t seem to notice, spreading her hands towards the peaks. “ _Look_ at these glorious, snow-dusted mountains! I _love_ the Shiverpeaks. They’re so magnificent.”

“They are indeed,” Caoilfhionn said. “I have not seen their like before. I love them! Though I fear we must keep moving or else my sap shall cease to circulate properly.”

“Ha! Summon a fire elemental, you’ll be fine,” Wegaff told him, pulling his hood over his head and summoning an elemental of his own as they moved down the path in a southerly direction.

Sieran laughed. “That’s one way to deal with it! I’ve grown accustomed to it, myself. A couple weeks traipsing about, you’ll be adapted to it in _no_ time. Well, at least Caoilfhionn will. I’m not sure how Asura deal with it.”

“I can’t wait,” Caoilfhionn said. “It looks as if there must be nooks and crannies everywhere.”

“Full of secrets,” Wegaff said with glee. “Nowhere in the Shiverpeaks is fully known, even after all this time. There are still many things for newcomers like us to discover.”

“Secrets I want to see,” Caoilfhionn said. “Even if I do not always find something no one has ever seen before, I want to see everything I can with my own eyes.”

“Same here!” Wegaff said. “You watch – I’ll be an Explorer within the week.”

Caoilfhionn smiled. “I think Trahearne would approve.”

“Oooh! You know Trahearne?” Sieran exclaimed, cupping her chin with eager hands. “He’s my hero!”

Caoilfhionn beamed at her. “Mine, too! He’s so wise and patient!”

“He _is_ , and _endlessly_ knowledgeable about history. The Priory sure could use him!” Sieran sighed dreamily.

Caoilfhionn had known he liked her for a reason. Indeed, if he weren’t in love with Trahearne, he might have fallen in love with Sieran for appreciating Trahearne too! “He said he didn’t want to join any Order, though.”

“I know. He must focus on his Wyld Hunt. But… so many Valiants join the Orders. Like you.” Sieran shrugged. “At least he is happy where he is. And I’m happy where I am!”

“You are,” he said admiringly. “How old are you?”

She grinned. “About a year! How about you?”

“A few months. Still pretty fresh.”

“You joined the Priory younger than I did, so you’re doing very well!”

“Come along!” Wegaff said, beckoning from a bend in the path ahead. “I don’t know Trahearne besides that one time in the lich’s tomb, but I do know we’re going to be late for dinner if we don’t pick up the pace.”

“You fought a _lich?_ ” Sieran demanded as they set forth. “With Trahearne? You _must_ tell me all about it!”

* * *

The dredge had indeed found the tomb, but after the three explorers had fought off the initial wave of mole-people, Wegaff put a hand to an ear. “There’s more fighting further down this tunnel. Who do you think it might be?”

Sieran shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea! Let’s go find out!”

“I’m with you,” Caoilfhionn said. They rounded a corner in the tunnel to find the cave opening out into a much larger area. And over to their left was a Norn with sword and shield and heavy armour, her back against the wall, fending off five or six dredge near a cage along the wall. “Come, then! Which of you wants to see the Mists first?” she yelled at the dredge. Her foes hesitated.

“Explorer Annhilda!” Sieran gasped, and jumped forward. “Quickly, novices! We must help her!”

With a burst of lightning, she flew at the dredge while Wegaff pulled an Earth elemental from the tunnel floor. The dredge needed little more convincing to turn and flee back into the depths. The Norn woman chuckled as she sheathed her sword, tossing back her long red hair. “Good to see you, Sieran. Your new novices?”

“Yes, indeed!” Sieran said. “This one is Caoilfhionn, and this one is Wegaff! Annhilda is another Explorer with the Priory. She’s still pretty new too, but _very_ dedicated! What brings you here, Annhilda?”

“Rescuing these Explorers,” Annhilda said, opening the cage and releasing another Norn and a human, who stumbled out gratefully. “Gixx sent me. Did he send you too?”

“Uh… sure!” Sieran said glibly. “Gixx sent us. That’s why we’re here. Gixx. He sent us.”

Annhilda raised a crimson eyebrow. “What, does he not trust my skills anymore? I appreciate your help, but I’m quite capable of dealing with a few moles on my own…”

“Well, we’re not just here for that,” Sieran confessed. “There’s a dwarven tomb…”

“Raven’s wings! Where?” Annhilda cried. “No matter, go on. I will catch up with you after I’ve made sure these two can walk on their own legs again.”

* * *

After a slightly awkward interview back at the Priory, where Caoilfhionn learned that Sieran was _not_ supposed to be dragging novice explorers about the Shiverpeaks without permission, no matter how urgent the quest, Annhilda cornered him in the hall. “New to the Priory, eh?”

He stammered a bit. “Er… yes, quite.” She was tall, and fierce, with bold grey-blue eyes that matched the blue tattoos on her cheeks, and she carried her sword, almost as tall as he was, like it was a part of her – he already found himself in awe of her, and though he wished to shower her in praise and admiration, he found himself a bit tongue-tied instead. “What brought you to the Order?”

She gestured to the huge revolving pillar of light with its stone and holographic tablets. “Ah, there are more mysteries and riddles here, than even I could solve in a lifetime. But by Raven, if the Dragons have a weakness, I shall find it! And you?”

He laughed. “I joined to save innocents and destroy evil. I am charged with fighting Zhaitan, and the Priory seemed the best way to learn how to do that – and to see all of Tyria!”

“Worthy goals. I think you’ll do well in them. You look small, and too colourful to survive alone in the snow, but you fight like Wolf, with your friends there.”

He felt his luminescence flush with pride. “Thank you! That’s very kind of you to say. Er… but would you tell me more of your Great Spirits? I have not met many Norn in my life yet.”

“Aha!” Annhilda’s eyes gleamed. “Let us to the mess and have a brew together, pup. As a shaman of Raven, I can tell you as much as you want to know and more!”

He jogged to keep up with her long, easy stride. “…Pup?”

* * *

Annhilda joined them while they hunted for the Sanguinary Blade, the deadly sword the dredge had stolen from the dwarven tomb; hunted for a sheath that would contain its power; hunted for the Norn who stole it from the dredge. Especially after it became apparent that the Sons of Svanir were involved, Annhilda seemed to consider it her bounden duty to see it safely in Priory hands, and Caoilfhionn was with her – though he did not have the personal connection that the Norn did. No matter. He’d seen enough to fight with conviction. A weapon this powerful in the hands of a servant of a dragon was not to be borne.

And recovering it was a fight and a half. The monstrous, transformed ice-Norn was fast and brutal, and seemed to shrug off the most powerful of attacks from all four of them. Only when Caoilfhionn blew his head entirely off with a stone spike did he stop, collapsing heavily to the ground, the blood-sword clanging to the stony mountainside before them.

“Good shot,” Annhilda said, sheathing her sword. “Sieran, the scabbard?”

“Here you are!” panted Sieran, handing it over and then bending double to catch her breath. “My goodness, that was intense! I didn’t expect it to be quite so exciting!”

“He really was all over the place,” Wegaff said. “It was inevitable we’d get him, he had no strategy whatsoever.”

Caoilfhionn stepped forward carefully, examining the headless corpse regretfully. “It’s hard to believe that Steag was willing to see all his Norn friends die, just to keep the power of the Sanguinary Blade.”

“That’s not hard for me to believe at all,” Sieran said, straightening up and holding up a lecturing finger. “It’s typical of the idiots who serve Elder Dragons. The dragons are a blight. They don’t care about anything but their hunger. Their followers are just… _bad_.”

“Svanir,” Annhilda said contemptuously. “They’d be a threat if they shared between them more than a lone Skritt’s brain.”

“Even if we find a way to save the world from the dragons, I sometimes wonder if we’ll ever find a way to save us from ourselves,” Sieran said. “But anyway, when Gixx told me I was going to be mentoring new Novices, I thought it would be an incredibly boring task. But you know what? I really like you two! You’re willing to try new things, and – and Wegaff is clever, and Caoilfhionn is sensible, and you both have _wonderful_ curiosity. I’m glad you’ve joined the Priory.”

“Of course,” Wegaff said. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“Thanks, Sieran!” Caoilfhionn said. It was the first time that anyone had called him ‘sensible’, and even though the person saying so was Sieran, who was the opposite of sensible – not that he minded, she was a lot of fun – it made him very happy. “I’ve enjoyed this quest very much, and I look forward to the next one!”

Sieran clapped her hands. “Cherry! Come on, let’s get the sword back to Gixx.”

Annhilda nodded. “And then, we’ll work on saving the world! After a good mug of ale, of course. I’m thirsty!”


	10. Ghosts and Guns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ascalon Catacombs! Rhyoll is Tharash's character! Phiadi is mine, loosely based off my Sith Warrior from SWTOR.

10: Ghosts and Guns (Ascalon Catacombs)

A week later, armed with the title of Explorer – as was Wegaff, as he’d said – Caoilfhionn found himself in Ascalon for the first time, accompanied by Wegaff, invited by Annhilda. They met her at a ruined stone door leading down into the earth, and another red-headed Norn with a wolf-hound nearly as big as Caoilfhionn beside her. “Hello, my friends!” Annhilda said. “This is my friend and mentor, Eir Stegalkin. Eir, these are two of my companions at the Priory, Wegaff and Caoilfhionn.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Eir said. “This is Garm. Did Annhilda explain why we are here?”

“Slightly,” Caoilfhionn said, thrilled to meet another member of Destiny’s Edge. “There is a sword of legend buried here, is there not?”

“Aye, that’s the gist of it. Long ago-”

“There was a human king, and he used it to destroy his own kingdom out of spite,” said a vaguely familiar voice, and the Asura named Phiadi appeared with a toss of her white-pink hair, strutting like royalty, a swarm of undead minions already clustering around her. “I can relate. Thanks for the invite, Wegaff. Hope you don’t mind I brought Damara as well. I asked Mabbran, but he wasn’t interested.”

Damara waved, her white teeth shining in her brown-skinned face framed by her loose black braids. “Hello! Melandru bless you, it’s nice to see you again! I brought my wolf today, this is Torkil!” She had a beautiful snowy-white wolf with her, and he and Garm sniffed each other curiously. “Phiadi said we might be fighting human ghosts, so of course I had to come. I’m hoping this will help the peace treaty along a little. And it’s nice to meet you, Eir Stegalkin.”

Eir smiled. “I welcome the company. It’s going to be very dangerous, but when I called on Annhilda for aid, I did not imagine she would bring half a guild of her own. Now, let’s go before Rytlock gets here.”

Caoilfhionn had many questions, but Eir was not waiting for anyone, and he had to hastily pull answers out of Annhilda as they set off. But even that didn’t last long, as no sooner had the inner doors shut behind them when they were assaulted by ghosts of humans, angry, violent ghosts, who took sword strikes and lightning bolts in their faces and did not fall. Even Phiadi’s necromantic magic was not enough on its own to convince them to rest, and it took their combined efforts several minutes to slay each ghost they found.

They’d gotten partway into the catacombs where there was an angry, growling shout from behind them, and they turned to see two Charr bounding up – a dark brown, fuming, armoured tower of fur introduced as Rytlock Brimstone, and a shorter black-and-white Charr with a slight limp who didn’t pay the others much attention, mostly involved in a small arsenal of contraptions Caoilfhionn had never seen the like of before. He briefly introduced himself as Rhyoll Cinderforge, and then went back to tinkering with those contraptions.

After Rytlock and Eir shouted at each other for a few minutes, Annhilda stepped in. “Look, we’re all here, and between the eight of us, we can handle whatever ghosts come our way.”

“I agree,” said Rhyoll, waving a screwdriver. “Tribune, I’m not getting any testing done just standing here.”

Rytlock looked around at all of them with a sour, skeptical face. “None of you look anything like soldiers except the Norn. If you die, don’t come crying to me.”

“I don’t expect I could cry if I were dead,” Caoilfhionn said curiously. “But that’s no reason to turn back!”

Rytlock shot him a sharp glance; Caoilfhionn held his ground. “You’re a real sprout, aren’t you? Fine. Let’s get going.”

* * *

With the legendary sword recovered, Eir and Rytlock started fighting again – though this time they did not raise their voices. When Rytlock had stomped away, Caoilfhionn simply had to ask more questions. “Why does Rytlock hate Logan?” Caithe had said… something about it, but it had been a while ago, in Lion’s Arch, and she had been vague. Perhaps Eir would be more straightforward.

Eir sighed. “Mistakes from a lifetime ago, best forgotten. Rytlock’s right. I’ve gotten too sentimental. Too weak.”

“It is not weakness to care,” Annhilda said. “Our lives are made up of symbols and stories. Our strength comes from living them, not denying them.”

Eir shrugged. “A long time ago, I led us into a disaster. He blames me. They all do. The thing is… they might be right.” Caoilfhionn did not know what to say to that – he did not know Eir or Destiny’s Edge or their last battle well enough to comfort her with conviction, and someone with Eir’s intensity would not accept anything less than complete and utter certainty. “Come, we should leave. Ultimately, this mission was a failure.”

“It’s not a failure,” Damara said gently. “Adelbern needed to be dealt with. With him laid to rest, perhaps we can move forward more easily.”

Eir shook her head. “I was stupid to think a sword could slice through the wall between Logan and Rytlock.”

“Should we follow him?” Annhilda asked.

“No. He still hates Logan – and now he hates me. I should have left bad enough alone.”

“Nah, when the Tribune’s in a Mood, no one can talk to him,” Rhyoll volunteered. “He was talking pretty generously about Destiny’s Edge around a month ago, but then he went to Lion’s Arch to meet with his old guildmates and it’s soured him ever since.”

“Right,” Eir said. “I remember.”

“I thought whacking some ghosts might get him back to normal, but, eh, guess not.” He shrugged and let out a booming laugh. “Makes me feel all stifled when he’s around, honestly. I’d say it was a mission well-done, myself! You folks gave me all the tests I could ask for, and then some. So come on, loosen up those long faces.”

“I actually had some questions for you,” Caoilfhionn said.

“You’ve been asking questions this whole time, can’t you stop for five minutes?” Phiadi complained. “You’re worse than a progeny trying to get with their favourite professor.”

“But there’s so much I don’t know!” Caoilfhionn said, laughing. “Rhyoll, you have so many machines-”

“You like ’em? Want a closer look?”

“Yes, please!”

“I’m a weapons engineer for Iron Legion, I know how to make ’em. Let me take you back to my workshop and we’ll go over a bunch!”

* * *

Eir left them outside the Catacombs, making the journey back to Hoelbrak to get the legendary sword repaired – or not, Caoilfhionn still wasn’t sure what her decision was. But the rest of them went with Rhyoll to his workshop at the Black Citadel. Caoilfhionn was not a huge fan of Charr architecture – it was so jagged, and haphazard, and threatening, and lifeless. Brutal, if he had to be succinct. He stayed close to the others through the Black Citadel, a little on edge from all the angry yelling sounds, the screeching of metal, the stench of smoke and oil. They were getting looks, for such a multicultural party was not often seen outside of Lion’s Arch. He was certain that no matter how many times he visited, he would never be comfortable there.

Rhyoll’s workshop was tucked away in a corner of the place, not too close to the looming Citadel itself, a sturdy metal shed with a small test field in front of it. As they came to it, he turned around and held up a claw. “Now. No one is allowed inside. Especially you, Sylvari. I’m still not sure how flammable your race is compared to the others, but I’m not risking it.”

“U-understood,” Caoilfhionn said, stopping short. With a warning like that, he had even less motivation to enter than he’d had before.

“Right. Let’s start with something small. Got this pistol, see. Let me show you its features! This little beauty doesn’t just fire bullets – it also shoots a powerful glue that’ll stop anything short of a minotaur.” Rhyoll shot at a blob of some pale substance at a nearby sheet of metal. It spattered wildly across the surface; Caoilfhionn flinched as droplets reflected back at them. Everybody backed up a little bit, in fact.

“Sticky stuff! It’s real sticky!” To demonstrate, Rhyoll reached down and picked up a rock the size of his fist – or the size of Caoilfhionn’s whole head – and tossed it at the pale splatter. It held, jiggling slightly. “Comes off with water, too. So if I accidentally snag any of you elementalists, you’ll be fine.”

“How… reassuring,” Wegaff mumbled.

“ _And_ – this is the best part – it’s got a _napalm magazine_.” Tail lashing violently, he aimed the pistol and blasted the rock with a jet of white-hot flames. Caoilfhionn jumped, but now he was intrigued. That almost looked more powerful than some of his spells! Annhilda had found a high ledge to sit on and observe from; Damara leaned against the wall below her. Her wolf was hunched behind her legs, looking oddly calm; she still kept a comforting hand on its head. Phiadi was sitting on one of her larger minions.

Rhyoll guffawed in delight. “Ahahahaha! I love setting things on fire!”

“Can’t you just call it a flamethrower?” Phiadi asked.

“No, because I have actual flamethrowers and they’re completely different. Right, on to the next thing. You saw I was using a shotgun in the Catacombs, I’m sure. Let me show you its features!” Tail wagging harder than ever, he unholstered his weapon and spun it around. “Of course, I can just shoot things with it, but if I just recalibrate the chamber, then it fires a shot with extra force, enough to blow away most smaller hostiles and knocking bigger ones back a step or two.”

He turned to demonstrate, firing a regular shot at a target, which splintered under the assault, and then fiddling with his gun for a moment before firing the second. The second explosion was louder, and Caoilfhionn jumped – the second target snapped off at the base, slamming to the ground with the force of the shot. Damara’s wolf growled at the deafening sound. “And with that force, I can do other things, too!” He turned the gun down, aiming between his knees – Caoilfhionn started to object-

The gun went off, and Rhyoll went sailing through the air, chortling as only a Charr could. “Whahahahaha! How’s that!”

“Marvelous,” Caoilfhionn said breathlessly. “I had wondered how you did that, before. I don’t suppose I could try?” Flying looked like a lot of fun!

“Hell no!” Rhyoll shouldered his gun again. “ _I’m_ about 450 pounds of muscle and bone. _You’re_ , what, 150 pounds soaking wet? It’d break you in half like a twig. Maybe someday I’ll build a special one just for you, but I’d have to have a lot of free time on my hands…”

“I understand,” Caoilfhionn said. “Thank you for showing us, anyway.”

“Oh, I’m not done yet! Heheheh!”

Rhyoll went on to show them his many turrets, his rocket launcher, his actual flamethrower, a healing kit that… included some sort of bandage grenade launcher – he fired, the bandages flew, and fell anti-climactically to the ground. He looked around at their puzzled stares. “Look, it’s a work in progress.”

And the last thing he showed them was a strange sort of harness for his legs, that he said would help him move faster – faster, even, than a healthy Charr with no injury or disability.

“A tall claim,” Annhilda said. “I have boasted that I can run as fast as a Charr, and to run faster still?”

“You’re the one telling tall tales, sister. Tell you what – race you to the Horn of Rin and back.”

“You’re on,” Annhilda said, jumping down from her seat.

Rhyoll grinned, showing off all his sharp teeth. “And I’ll even throw in a control group. Gary!”

A burly, confused-looking Charr with pure golden fur came stumping over. “Rhyoll? What d’you need?”

“We’re gonna race to the Horn of Rin and back. I want you to race with us. Gotta show all these newbies the power of Charr engineering and all that.”

“But you’re using your mecha legs! I’ll lose!” Gary whined.

“That’s the point!” Rhyoll bopped Gary in the back of the head. “Come on, I’ll buy you a steak.”

“Oh, I’ll do it for a steak. Who’s saying ‘ready, steady, go’?”

“I will!” Caoilfhionn said.

Rhyoll won, though Annhilda strove valiantly. Gary came in last, though he didn’t seem to mind. “By Raven, that is a wonderful device,” Annhilda said, panting a little, when they made it back. “Why did you not use it in the Catacombs?”

“They’re only a prototype so far. They’re not very comfortable unless I’m running long distances without stopping, and stopping to fight every thirty seconds is, well, stopping. Something for another time. After I work on it some more. Hey, I won’t mind working with you lot again. Depends where the Tribune needs me to go. But you want a flamethrower or turret support, I’m your Charr.”

“We’d be honoured to have you with us, should we need your aid,” Annhilda said. “I know I speak for all of us with the Priory.”

“Six preserve us, I’m with the Vigil, but I’d concur with that!” Damara said, ruffling up her wolf’s neck fur. “Torkil doesn’t mind the loud noises, but I may have to see if any of my other pets have concerns.”

“How many do you have?” Caoilfhionn asked in wonder.

Damara hid an embarrassed smirk; she might have blushed, but her skin-tone was too dark-brown for Caoilfhionn to tell based on colour variation like he could with Annhilda. “Twelve, at the moment. Come to Divinity’s Reach sometime and I’ll introduce you. I’ve a small farm from my parents where they live when they’re not about with me.”

“I’d like that.”

“Most of your toys aren’t really… subtle,” Phiadi said, “but I’ll grant that you have a head for solving problems. Crudely. With the most explosive solution possible.”

“Explosions are fun!” Rhyoll said, grinning with all his sharp teeth, tail wagging.

“And educational!” Wegaff said.


	11. Hope's Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caudecus's Manor and oh hey look at that it's a guild! Hope's Legacy was taken in-game when I went to make a guild for my friends and me (and also apostrophes aren't allowed, even though [gestures wildly at Destiny's Edge and Dragon's Watch]) so I named it something like "Dream of Hopes Legacy [Lgcy]" (and the only representing member is Caoilffhionn, anyway) (as it probably would be with a name like that).

11: Hope’s Legacy

A few days afterwards, Caoilfhionn found an elaborate invitation in his mail – gold and red ink on creamy white paper invited him to a party celebrating the peace negotiations between the Humans and the Charr. He was intrigued, and confused, and delighted, all at once. On one branch, why was he invited? He didn’t really know any high-ranking Krytans very well, and he was a foreigner to them. Had Damara something to do with it? On another branch, if they were having parties just for celebrating peace negotiations, he wondered what it would look like when peace was actually reached. And on the third branch, he loved parties! He could wear Blathnat’s newest creation, a lovely violet robe with sweeping epaulets.

Wegaff came to see him. “I got this weird invite today. What do you- oh, you got one too.”

“Damara must have had them sent,” Caoilfhionn said. “She is the most influential Human we know, and we both know her well from that business with the Queen. I’ll be going, of course.”

“Then you can take my regrets,” Wegaff said. “I’m not one for parties. Zero productive results, 95% of the time. I’m going to False Lake and double-checking Sieran’s numbers because, well, let’s just say her _enthusiasm_ puts the College of Dynamics to shame.”

“If Damara sent it, she must suspect trouble,” Caoilfhionn said, trying to tempt him with a smile.

“Then double the reason for me to stay out of it! I’ve decided my skills are really not in battle. _Yours_ are, anyone can see. But mine are in research.” Wegaff actually hesitated, a rare thing for him to do. “I know we promised we’d help each other out on our investiga- quests. But I really do think that I can be of more use to you here at the Priory, than out fighting things physically beside you.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Caoilfhionn was disappointed, and a little sad, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected to him. “I think you’re a wonderful elementalist.”

“Geo-kineticist,” Wegaff corrected him. “Thanks. I _am_ good. I certainly trounce you on the theoretical side. But I’d rather avoid the risk of copious head trauma. Like in the Ascalonian Catacombs with those Destiny’s Edge bulldozers, I didn’t even get a chance to sample the stones, but you had no problem keeping up. In fact, it looked like you were having a great time.”

Such a compliment warmed him from his leaves to his toes, and he would have hugged Wegaff if not for the fact that the Asura was too small to do it easily, and that Wegaff had a strict no-hugs policy. “That’s the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you.”

“Well, I’m not saying it again,” Wegaff grumbled, embarrassed. “Anyway, if it’s just a party, I’ll be bored to death, and if there’s trouble, you can handle yourself just fine – especially if anyone we know is there to help you.”

“Very well,” Caoilfhionn said. “I wish you well in your research, and I’ll drink to your health while I’m there!”

“If that makes you happy,” Wegaff said.

“It will, just like going to False Lake to check numbers will make you happy,” Caoilfhionn said, laughing.

“Ugh, go have fun, you social butterfly.”

* * *

Damara _was_ there, looking different with her dark hair done up in a fancy way, and she _had_ sent the invitations, and there too were Annhilda, Phiadi, and Rhyoll. “Logan thinks there’s going to be trouble, so when he invited me, I of course thought of you all. Is Wegaff not coming?”

“He sends his regrets,” Caoilfhionn said. “He really does not like parties, and said that between the five of us, we wouldn’t need his aid.”

“I’m not surprised,” Annhilda said. “From what I’ve seen of him, he’ll be happier where he is. We’ll just have to work a little harder.”

“Blast it,” Rhyoll grumbled. “Why I let you talk me into this when Mia Kindleshot is _right there_ …”

“It’s good to see you again!” Caoilfhionn said.

“You too, twig,” Rhyoll said. “Nothing new to show you today, I’m afraid. Nice duds.”

“That’s all right. Thank you! My sister made this but newly for me, as she does all my clothes.”

“They show you’ve clearly never been within spitting distance of an engine, ahaha.”

“Why would you want to spit on an engine…?”

“Oh! It’s Zojja! I was hoping she’d be here,” Phiadi said, and pointed.

Caoilfhionn drifted curiously in her wake. Zojja was the only member of Destiny’s Edge he had not yet met, and he wanted to know what sort of person she was like. But along the way, he got snagged by Dagonet, the Sylvari ambassador to Kryta, and was soon deep into stimulating conversation with him.

So he was quite startled when Humans started shouting and suddenly-appearing golems started shooting and the whole place turned upside down in a moment. “To me!” Annhilda shouted, her voice ringing over the commotion, and he obeyed gladly, lightning wreathing his drawn dagger.

* * *

Logan had been reunited with his kidnapped queen, and it was so romantic, he was almost jealous. To be thus torn between love and duty, the desire to protect someone and the necessity of protecting everyone… Not to mention, the chance to be so close so constantly to his beloved, to be so blatant with his affections under a thin veneer of professionalism – and with Logan, it was _thin_ … To be in his place must have been agony, but how sweet the pain! He only had his pining, which wasn’t really pining at all, but a sort of happy yearning…

He was getting a little ahead of himself. Tinting his vision a bit too rosy. He would gladly have settled for being able to simply speak with Trahearne again. But he _really_ wanted to swoon a bit…

The remains of the party had begun to clear off, leaving the five of them on the outskirts of Beetletun. “Once again, we worked well together,” Annhilda said. “I would like to propose that we make this official.”

“What, start a guild?” Phiadi asked, with an elegantly-raised brow ridge.

Damara smiled, petting her red Moa. “That sounds like a great plan! I’m in.”

“I would be honoured!” Caoilfhionn said, putting a hand to his chest to contain his pride.

“Yeah, I guess I could stand to hang out with you guys sometimes,” Rhyoll said with a chuckle.

Phiadi rolled her eyes. “I suppose _someone_ has to be the token Asura, and who better than this year’s Snaff Savant: me.”

“The Snaff Savant, a Wyld Hunt Valiant, an Iron Legion Centurion, the Hero of Shaemoor, and the Slayer of Issormir,” Annhilda said. “We’re a pretty excellent group, wouldn’t you say?”

“We need a wonderful name!” Caoilfhionn said. “What shall we call ourselves?”

“ _That_ discussion needs to take place over a beer,” Damara said. “Come on, the pub here is quality.”

Hours later, after much discussion, argument, and random tangential talk, they raised their mugs together. “To Hope’s Legacy!”


	12. Hearts That Beat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twilight Arbour is the last dungeon I'm writing about. Destiny's Edge can solve their issues without us, they're grown-ups. Mostly. :P

12: Hearts That Beat

Caoilfhionn was busy for the Priory for some time afterwards, traveling the length and breadth of Tyria to learn more of the other peoples who lived there, particularly the quaggan and the hylek, in the company of various combinations of Annhilda, Wegaff, and/or Sieran. Annhilda even went on a mission to the jotunn, attempting to discover what led them to lead such base lives compared to their sophisticated history, though she was only successful in attracting a few scattered warriors to attach themselves to the Priory. Gixx called it foolhardy before she even began, but she shrugged, for when had pessimistic predictions ever stopped a Norn?

And of course their new guild met every couple weeks, to do small quests together, to hunt bandits, to simply explore new places and show each other places they thought worth seeing. Caoilfhionn had a wonderful time, and soon felt quite close to all of them.

The next time Hope’s Legacy had a major mission was a couple months later, when Caithe sent a letter to Caoilfhionn, who passed it on to the rest of the guild – she wanted help fighting against Faolain of the Nightmare Court, to drive her out of a grove far too close to Sylvari villages. So they met in the dark depths of Caledon Forest… and lo and behold, Rytlock and Logan were both there at Caithe’s invitation, and already threatening to kill each other. Rytlock left immediately, and Logan stayed only a short while afterwards before taking offense at something _else_ and flouncing out.

“Wow,” Phiadi said. “I didn’t realize Destiny’s Edge was _all_ melodramatic divas.”

“Caithe’s not!” Caoilfhionn said, diving to her defense.

Phiadi fixed him with a Look. “Well, those two are, and Zojja definitely is – I say that as someone who’s worked extensively with her, she is a Diva with a capital D. Don’t know about Eir, she seemed all right from what I remember.”

Caithe sighed. “And yet we worked so well together…”

“I have to say, this is a different side to Logan than I’ve seen before,” Damara said. “I had thought his only short-sighted trigger was Queen Jennah, but… leaving his allies in the middle of a fight? Rytlock wasn’t even here anymore, and he couldn’t take one gentle question about this sore spot?” She shook her head. “Men.”

“Hahaha, you’re not wrong,” Rhyoll said. “Though to be fair, Charr women also have hot tempers.”

“But a leader should not have a hot temper,” Annhilda said. “Or if they do, they have to keep a lid on it. Bear is fierce, and sometimes poor at communicating, but even he knows not to burn down his own den. …Usually.”

“There are still six of us,” Caithe said, still subdued. “And we are not fighting a dragon this time. He is not abandoning us to death.”

“No, we can definitely carry this,” Phiadi said. “Just… It doesn’t look to me like it’s worth reforming that particular guild. Take Eir and make a new one. Join ours. Do something different. Let the others stew in their resentment, forgotten by history as irrelevant.”

“I don’t agree with the last sentiment, but that’s not a bad idea,” Annhilda said. “Destiny’s Edge are still remembered as heroes, but new legends are born all the time.”

“It’s like music bands,” Damara said. “What? I might have grown up poor, but I have culture.”

Caithe shook her head. “I hear what you say, but I don’t believe it. There was no group like ours, and no group I wish to be part of besides ours. I wish you well, but I cannot join while I have any hope for Destiny’s Edge.”

“Then I wish _you_ well,” Caoilfhionn said. “I think they all like us, to some degree – if there’s any way I can help, I will try to do so.”

“Thank you, Caoilfhionn,” Caithe said. “But right now we must find Faolain before it’s too late.”

But Caoilfhionn ached with sympathy for Caithe in more ways than that, for he began to see how Caithe had loved Faolain, loved her in a deep, quiet way like a still lake. And he saw how Faolain abused that past love, even the memory of that love, dragging its vulnerabilities out into the open and spitting on it with her ‘champions’. If he had not had reason to hate the Nightmare Court before, which he had anyway, reinforced by rescuing several tormented captive Sylvari along the way, seeing how their Grand Duchess behaved without dignity or honour gave him ample reason now.

And he saw how Caithe rose above that betrayal, rejected Faolain’s lies when her heart must have been bleeding to accept them, and saw completely through everything Faolain had transformed into. _Trahearne would never fall like that_ , his soul whispered – but surely Caithe had once thought that about Faolain. “ _I remember what she was at the very beginning. She was the sun to my stars._ ” Still… Trahearne would never fall like that. But if he did, would Caoilfhionn have the same strength Caithe showed here and now? He wondered. Afterward. When they weren’t fighting colossal tree monsters and hallucinatory apparitions.

Caithe walked a little away from them when they had won and Faolain had fled, standing with her back to them, looking out over the forest. Caoilfhionn took a step towards her. “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” she said, looking back over her shoulder and smiling a little. “Faolain is… a manipulator, and I almost fell into her trap. I almost despaired. I almost gave up. But you did not let me fall. Thank you for helping me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said. “I knew you could rise above such abuse. And anyone who abuses like that does not truly love. Stay with us, who remember how to love.”

She gave him a half-smile. “You love everyone, don’t you? I hope the world is gentler with your feelings than it was with mine.” She began walking back through the forest. “Come, let us leave this place. It will take time for the grip of Nightmare to loosen upon these vines.”

* * *

They returned to Falias Thorp to rest and to celebrate, and while Rhyoll was skeptical at first that Sylvari could make alcohol that he would enjoy, he was soon as drunk as the rest of them. Caoilfhionn enjoyed watching them, and his own drinking, immensely, and though he did not go to the excesses of his first night drinking, he perhaps drank more than was wise.

When things began to quiet down, he found himself flopped on the ground, his head on someone’s shoulder. He’d never been so close to a non-Sylvari before, and found it fascinating – the bare skin of their shoulder was soft against his cheek, in a silky way, not like the semi-glossy leaf-like feel of Sylvari skin. He turned his head and saw Damara’s armoured vest and the brown skin of her forearm. “May I ask a question?”

“I won’t know until you ask it,” Damara said from over his head. “What is it?”

“What’s that thumping sound you keep making? From inside you?”

There was a perplexed pause. “Melandru’s grace, have you really never heard a heartbeat before?”

“Is that what that is?” He pushed his ear closer to the source of the sound, heedless of all the leather and flesh padding in the way. “No, I have never heard one, even in an animal. I haven’t been so close to a mammal heart while it was so quiet before.”

She snorted, but she didn’t push him away, though he realized even through his lingering drunkenness that he was being rather rude. “Um… congratulations? What does _your_ circulatory system sound like if you don’t have a heart?”

“Near-silent, of course. You could listen, but all you’d hear would be my breath. Unless all the world were still, perhaps you could hear it, like the soft sound of dew falling on young grass…”

“I’m more interested in your hair, anyway. These leaves are such an interesting colour. And the glow is absolutely magical.”

“Like orchids, right? My siblings call me the Orchid Prince.”

“Orchids don’t glo- I didn’t know Sylvari had princes?” Damara asked, gently exploring his leaves. It felt rather nice.

“We don’t actually, of course. It’s just a title. It doesn’t mean anything besides the fact that I’m handsome and have bright colouration. And I just realized I never told anyone about this before, it was just between me and my four close siblings, and it was their idea originally, I’m quite embarrassed now, please forgive me.”

She giggled. “So in Sylvari culture, I could be a princess and no one would blink twice about it?”

“I suppose? Or a countess, or a baroness, or a dame, or any title you care to think of. Although given that we fought the Nightmare Court’s grand duchess today, duchesses are not… really popular here anymore.”

“That’s understandable. I think Orchid Prince is a great epithet for you, and I’m going to use it from now on.”

“No! Not in front of- it’s embarrassing, I don’t want people to think I’m full of myself.”

“Is that your concern? All they have to do is talk to you. Tyria _knows_ people who are full of themselves. They’re called Asura.”

“Hey!” Phiadi called. “I resemble that remark!”

“So relax. You can be the Orchid Prince of Hope’s Legacy, and if people think you’re stuck-up, they just have to talk to you. Or I’ll beat them up.”

“I’m not certain that’s the most reassuring?” he said, laughing. “But very well. I _do_ like the title, I have to confess. It’s romantic and dashing.”

“Yes you are,” Damara said. “Are you planning to fall asleep on my chest? Because I’m getting pretty sleepy.”

“I suppose I could shift a bit and let you breathe,” he said, and scooted off to lie on the ground. “Good night.”

“Just going to sleep wherever? What about a bed or a sleeping roll?”

“More than half of Sylvari hardly bother,” he said. “We don’t need beds. We’re not uncomfortable. There should be hammocks somewhere in that hut there, though.”

“Right. Good night, then.”


	13. The Fall of Claw Island

13: The Fall of Claw Island

Only a few days later, Caoilfhionn was down at the Lion’s Arch docks with Sieran and Annhilda, all crowned with the title of Magister, to bring an urgent message to Lion’s Arch’s forward line of defense against Orr, Claw Island. They were not the only ones there. “Damara? Rhyoll?”

The Human and the Charr walked up, accompanied by a large, square, grey-haired Norn. “And this is our Vigil teammate, Warmaster Forgal Kernsson. What brings you here?” Damara asked, laughing, a hawk on her shoulder. “By Dwayna, you’re dressed more like a prince than ever. Your sister spoils you.”

He was wearing Blathnat’s finest creation, a royal purple contrast between symmetry and asymmetry in silk and velvet, a long coat and stylish tunic in one, arrayed with giant sky-blue flower petals, silver piping, and her finest embroidery work yet. If it hadn’t been enchanted to withstand anything short of dragon-fire – at least, she said it was – he would have been afraid to wear it outside of the Grove, but since it was so reportedly sturdy, he was going to wear it literally _everywhere_. “She certainly does. Anyway, we’re here with grave news for the commander of Claw Island.”

“We learned that there will be a major attack on Lion’s Arch very soon!” Sieran said. “I’m Sieran, Priory Magister, by the way. Nice to meet you! Gixx sent us. For real, this time.”

Rhyoll frowned. “You didn’t crib our work, did you? That’s what we’re here for!”

There was a loud sigh to the side, and they turned to see Phiadi standing there with an unusually-mild-looking Charr. “If we’re all here to report the same thing, why am I even needed?”

“Oh, come on, Phiadi,” coaxed the Charr. “These are your friends, aren’t they? Let’s all go together. The fact that all three of our Orders learned the same thing only triply confirms the threat. Hello! I’m Tybalt Leftpaw.”

“If there’s trouble, Hope’s Legacy is – unintentionally – united to stop it,” Annhilda said. “Are we bound for the same ship, then?”

The voyage to Claw Island was lovely – the sea breeze whipping through Caoilfhionn’s leaves, watching the mountainous jungle shore glide by, the imposing fortress growing larger straight ahead, the bright sun shining in the vivid blue sky overhead, dipping lower to the west. The gulls wailed as they chased the ship, and Caoilfhionn smiled to see them, so small and free. It was hard to believe Orr could attack such a lovely land – as if beauty were its own protection, which he knew was silly, and yet.

And looking up at the massive fortress as they docked, it was hard to believe anything could overcome such solid stones. Especially fragile undead. Sieran had similar thoughts. “It’s even bigger than I’d been told. So many soldiers! So much defiance! How can it possibly fall?”

“They built this fortress to last,” said the Norn, Forgal. “Only a complete, full-bore invasion could break those walls.”

“Which is exactly what they’re planning,” the Charr Tybalt said. “They wouldn’t attack if Zhaitan didn’t think they could do it. And the sooner we let the garrison know, the sooner they can prepare for it.”

And as they walked up from the docks, they saw Lionguards shifting restlessly, muttering to each other as the shadows lengthened in the growing twilight. “I smell something odd. Do you smell it? I don’t like this.”

“Is that Trahearne, up there, talking to Commander Talon? What do you think he wants?” Caoilfhionn brightened. It had been months since he’d seen him…

“Trahearne, the necromancer? Comes through here every few months on his way to Orr? That guy creeps me out.”

A surge of heat flooded Caoilfhionn’s body as he stiffened in offense, spinning to confront the Human man who had spoken last. “I beg your pardon? Have you ever talked to him?”

The soldier took a step back at his vehemence. “No, why would I-”

“You assume too much,” Caoilfhionn said coldly, and hurried after his friends at Sieran’s urgent whispered call. So such prejudice was not limited to the Sylvari! How infuriating.

But it _was_ Trahearne, and that that lifted his spirit to the heights of happiness, just to be in his presence again. “Trahearne!” He trotted to catch up and even pass the others, eager to see his friend – his love. Trahearne saw him coming, and moved away from the Charr Lionguard commander to speak to them. “Everyone, this is my dear friend Trahearne. Trahearne, I know you know Sieran, and these other people are my guild and their friends!”

“I know their friends,” Trahearne said with a smile, an unusually wide smile for him. “Hello, Sieran, Tybalt, Forgal. But we can catch up in a minute. What brings you here?”

“We have all independently discovered that the Risen are about to attack Lion’s Arch,” Caoilfhionn said. “You study Orr, is that why you are here too?”

“Yes, I’ve researched the situation extensively. Thank the Mother Tree you’re all here as well. Claw Island is in great danger. We must convince Watch Commander Talon of that, however.” Trahearne gestured them over to the Charr. “Commander Talon, my friends bring the same tidings. An attack _is_ imminent.”

“Eh, what’s that?” the Charr growled brusquely. “That’s still extremely unlikely. We’ve seen no sign of an impending attack. If there was to be one, we’d know of it.”

“But we _have_ seen signs,” Annhilda said grimly. “One of Zhaitan’s minions breached the city. We destroyed it, but the creature was likely scouting for a much bigger force.”

“And we found one as well,” Forgal said. “Alone, but powerful – definitely a scout.”

“The Order of Whispers concurs,” Phiadi said. “So at least three strong Risen were inside the city.”

“A fleet of Dead Ships has launched from the Straits of Devastation,” Trahearne said. “The Risen sail beneath a cloak of stealth.”

Commander Talon shrugged. “Whatever you’ve seen, it can’t be a real threat. Claw Island can withstand any assault! There’s nothing to fear.”

Phiadi stamped her foot. “You’re a fool if you ignore four warnings from all directions.”

The Charr laughed. “Inspect our defenses. Look at our munitions. We’re ready for anything, there’s no need to worry.”

“How many time as the fortress been attacked, if I may ask?” Caoilfhionn asked anxiously.

“Countless. We’ve had six major attacks under my watch, and that’s only in the last four years.”

“But don’t you believe Trahearne when he says this time will be different?”

“I respect Trahearne a great deal, but he’s a scholar, not a soldier! I don’t tell him his business, and he doesn’t tell me mine.”

“True,” Trahearne said. “If you don’t mind, I _would_ rather like to inspect your defenses. It’s been a while since I toured the fortress.”

“Go ahead,” Talon said with a laugh. “It’ll help you relax, I’m sure.”

“Come,” Trahearne said to them, “let us see to the cannons on the wall. Magister Sieran! It has been a long time. How’s the Priory treating you?”

“Firstborn, it is an _honour_ to see you again!” Sieran gushed as they walked. “I haven’t seen you since you helped the Order with that undead gorilla!”

Trahearne hid a dry smile. “The drowned Orrian one you let out of the cage? Yes, that was a menace. Did everything end up well?”

Sieran covered her face with her hands. “I misread the sign language! It was saying ‘kill’ and I thought it was saying ‘I feel better’. Yes, everything was resolved. With that. At least.”

“And you, Caoilfhionn?”

“It’s been wonderful,” Caoilfhionn said, smiling fit to burst. “I’ve learned so much, seen so much, traveled so much. My guild, Hope’s Legacy, has been so exciting. I want to tell you everything but we’d be here a week!”

“A week we do not have right now, I think,” Trahearne said, looking to the clouding sky. Caoilfhionn wondered what he saw. But he turned to the other ones Caoilfhionn did not know well. “Tybalt, Forgal, good to see you as well. Congratulations on reaching field agent, Tybalt!”

“Thank you, my friend!” Tybalt chuckled. “You should get out from under your scrolls and scribbles and join us more often! You’re starting to look all wilted.”

“We need your common sense, lad,” Forgan said. “I’m glad you’re here.” Caoilfhionn blinked. It was sometimes difficult to remember that the very oldest Sylvari was still practically a ‘child’ compared to the elderly of the other races.

“I will do my best,” Trahearne said, as they passed another nervously muttering group of Lionguards. “There’s a chill in the air. It is beginning.”

Caoilfhionn had felt uneasy since setting foot on the island, but he had thought it was simply because of the news he brought. Now he realized that all along, it had been the anticipation of the Darkness coming for them, his sensitivity to the unseen piquing. He shivered, and not because the sun was setting. Trahearne was right.

“I don’t feel anything,” Rhyoll said. “I’ll take your word for it.”

But the Lionguard officers smiled and patted their cannons and trebuchets proudly. Trahearne turned away from them with a furrowed brow. “They don’t understand. This won’t be a sortie. It’ll be a massacre.”

“Will it?” Caoilfhionn said. He still hadn’t thought it through, hadn’t painted the pictures in his mind that Trahearne had so clearly seen. He’d thought if only they could warn the Lionguard, everything would work out. He had not envisioned the death that would come even with victory, and it sounded like Trahearne did not think victory possible. Which meant, quite possibly, that everyone here would die.

At least he’d die fighting, like a true Valiant.

“Why won’t he listen to us?” Damara complained.

“Talon is an excellent commander, but he is set in his ways,” Trahearne said. “He doesn’t want to think something might change. …He’ll come around. I hope.”

“What is it that you saw?” Annhilda asked.

“My research implies there’s a massive migration of Risen coming northwards – sailing their Dead Ships on an unnatural wind. I don’t know what it means. The clouds above them are too dark and impenetrable to see the whole of the threat.”

“We’ll do everything we can to protect Lion’s Arch,” Caoilfhionn said, desperately trying to hold on to his optimism.

“Hmm.” Trahearne withdrew into himself and said nothing more until they came to the Lionguard deployed to patrol the southeastern beaches.

Which came under attack the moment they arrived. Twenty or so zombies, rushing out of the sea, gibbering as they flailed at the Lionguard. To their credit, the soldiers responded swiftly and smoothly, taking well-rehearsed formations to defend their position. With Hope’s Legacy and the others joining in, they were cleared out quickly. Caoilfhionn found Trahearne fighting next to him, sometimes, when he wasn’t dashing in to lay down lines of fire and lightning. It was heartening to do so again.

The Deputy in charge of the squad, Mira, pulled off her helmet to wipe her brow. “I thought you said the attack would be significant, Trahearne?”

“It was a feint,” Trahearne said, sounding strained. Perhaps torn between desperately hoping he was wrong and Talon and Mira and Brakk were right, and the burden of having to convince them otherwise anyway. Better to be the sentinal who cried wolf than the one who did not. “They’re testing your defenses. More will come, and soon.”

“Makes sense,” Mira said, and put her helmet back on. “Report to Watch Commander Talon, and let him know our men are ready.”

As they jogged back up the beach to the fortress, Trahearne stayed next to Caoilfhionn. “I may have studied Orrian creatures for twenty-five years, but I rarely engage in combat with them. It’s terrifying.”

“I can agree to that,” Caoilfhionn said. “But fighting with you makes it less frightening for me.”

Trahearne paused. “And I with you. Thank you. …Do you think the commander will listen to us now?”

“I don’t know,” Caoilfhionn said grimly. “But I’ll fight anyway.”

The commander was pompous when they arrived before him. “A paltry attack. It barely ruffled our feathers. Is that all they brought?”

“There will be more,” Trahearne said, his voice utterly certain now. “Much, much more. Keep watching the sea.”

Talon scowled. “You’re a scholar, not a general, Firstborn. Why should we trust you?”

The sun slipped behind the horizon. Night had fallen. And with it, all nightmare broke loose.

Undead came hurtling out of the clouded sky, marching out of the sea, besetting the island fiercely from the south and west. The proud defenses apparently meant nothing when a reanimated corpse the size of a bull – the size of a tree – could land upon the walls and immediately set upon the trebuchets there. Annhilda took charge of their little group, helping to clear the wall, retake the cannons, and sink the ship launching the undead.

But where one ship sank, ten more sprang up, looming out of the darkening mist with bones rattling. And with the commander down, roaring defiance to his last breath, Deputy Mira took command, organizing a last defense in the courtyard while Hope’s Legacy rushed to light the warning beacons. “Should’ve done it when the main attack first started,” Phiadi grumbled, summoning new minions from the rotting corpses piled about them. “Stubborn proud old twit.”

And as the beacon blazed out from the great tower, there was a roar that rent the dark clouds, bat-like wings cleaving the air, and a dragon landed on the southern plateau, knocking down the wall there like it was made of toy blocks. Sieran screamed, Tybalt followed her, and Forgal yelled: “By the Spirits! Quick, attack it!”

Deputy Mira was also screaming, fallen to the ground in pain, clutching her face. She had been struck by the poison breathed by the dragon. Their party and the few remaining Lionguard surrounded her, as Trahearne knelt beside her, soothing her injuries, and then picking up her unconscious body. The dragon looked at them and roared again.

“We have to get out of here,” Annhilda said. “We’re not ready to fight this beast yet. Fall back!”

They made it through the gate, and few undead followed them yet, milling about by the dragon. Sieran wrung her hands. “The dragon’s servants will never let our ships sail. If they surround the docks, they’ll slaughter us – and Zhaitan’s forces will grow.”

“Our soldiers are too injured to fight,” Annhilda said, sweeping her arm over them. “They can barely walk. We can’t form a defense and still get them all aboard.”

“Someone needs to hold them off and give everyone else time to escape,” Sieran said.

“A heroic but nearly impossible task, against great odds and an unrelenting enemy,” Forgal said. “This, my friends, is a death worthy of legend.”

“Forgal!” Damara cried. “You can’t hold them off alone!”

“Not alone,” Tybalt said. “I haven’t always lived bravely, but I think… I think I’d like to die that way.”

“Hmph! Don’t think I’ll miss you!” Phiadi said, but her voice was wavering as she turned away with folded arms.

Tybalt chuckled. “Nobody believed I had courage. Not even me. But you came along, and you trusted me. Trust me now. I can do this.”

“I will as well,” Sieran said, almost all the laughter gone from her voice. “Gixx always said I was an exceptional troublemaker.”

“Sieran!” Caoilfhionn cried. “Even with the three of you, you can’t win! I- I’ll go with you!”

“You can’t, Caoilfhionn,” Sieran said. “Your guild needs you. The world needs you – _and_ your guild. And I need to do this.”

“But-”

“You don’t understand, Caoilfhionn,” Sieran said. “When you and I met, I didn’t think about anything but myself. I wanted fun, excitement, risks… I didn’t really care about others. In my short life, you’ve taught me the most important lesson. Friends will go through anything for each other. That’s why I have to do this.” She paused. “I was hoping to fall in love at least once before I died… like you did. I was a little jealous of you, to tell the truth. But I know you’ll make whoever it is very happy.”

“Sieran… I-” How was he to respond to that?

She smiled brightly. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to go to the Mists. It’ll be a new adventure…”

“Sieran! …Thank you. For everything.”

“Fight gloriously,” Annhilda said to her. “You’ve grown so much, Sieran. Raven is surely with you in this hour.”

“Thanks!” She smiled and waved. “Ready, everyone?”

“This is stupid,” Rhyoll said, and stepped forward to Forgall. “Here. My turrets. You’ll need them more than me. Give ’em hell, Warmaster.” Forgal smiled and nodded.

“Let me get that door,” Tybalt said, stepping inside with Sieran and Forgal, and going to the lever that closed the gate. “So long, you lot!”

“Tell our tale at the hearth fires, where the skaalds sing of heroes!” Forgal called, just as the undead tide swarmed towards them and the gate slammed shut. But still they could hear him roaring. “I am Forgal, son of Kern. My father was the last Dolyak Shaman! I am a Warmaster of the Vigil! You will never make me kneel!”

Caoilfhionn’s chest ached. His entire body ached, and his eyes were blinded by tears even as he ran in Annhilda’s wake. Undead rose up before him and he flung himself through them, scorching them to ash in blind fury.

The dragon would pay dearly for this.


	14. A Slow Blossoming

14: A Slow Blossoming

He had run from the others when they made it onto the ship, hiding on a back corner of the aft deck out of everyone’s way. Annhilda, Damara, even Rhyoll, tried to follow him, but he told them to go away. How could they understand? And there he grieved, unable to come to grips with his first really personal loss, when he heard light steps beside him and looked to see Trahearne’s feet next to him.

“May I sit with you?” Trahearne asked softly.

Caoilfhionn nodded, unable to speak, tears in his throat and the back of his hand to his mouth to cover his sobs. To imagine what had become of the three they’d left behind – he’d seen so much death that day, but to imagine Sieran – dull claws tearing her flesh apart, rending her limb from limb, a massive club crushing her – she who had been so full of life and laughter! – such horrors played through his mind until he wanted to scream.

“There, there,” Trahearne said, and next thing Caoilfhionn knew, he’d wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close to lean against his shoulder. “I miss her too. All of them. It’s always hard. Especially for one like you, with your bright, loving heart.”

“I should have done something,” Caoilfhionn whispered. “Even though she said I should not. What sort of knight lets their friends sacrifice themselves?”

“I know that line of thinking all too well. But we would not have escaped without them. Or without you. I owe you a great debt for your bravery.”

“’Twas not bravery,” Caoilfhionn mumbled. “’Twas simply reckless upset. I do not know what I did.”

“You cleared the way for us all, and saved me and Mira from being set upon by undead. I could not fight while carrying her unconscious body…” Trahearne paused. “I could say many… useless things to try to comfort you, but for now, I will only say this: it is all right to let it overwhelm you now. Let it out. There is no shame in grief.”

Caoilfhionn huddled closer to Trahearne’s rather woody shoulder, hugging his waist, and cried. He wished he could appreciate the closeness, but all he could focus on was his pain and confusion.

Perhaps Amaranda the Lonesome had been right. He’d been a bit of a fool. Grief was not glorious, nor was it romantic – he’d have given anything to have the three Order agents – just to have Sieran back. He’d give up the promises of a heroic future if only-

And he was all but guaranteed to lose more friends. To fight a dragon of death was no jaunt through a garden. Why was the world so cruel!? Why were the dragons so cruel?

When his tears had stilled, he leaned yet on Trahearne, taking as much comfort from his touch as he could, from the sound of his breath, from his scent – though he smelled of blood and dust and decay overlying everything else. In this moment, he could be close without fear, without shyness, watching the slow pulse of Trahearne’s magenta luminescence through the veins of the skin visible on his arms and hands.

“Feel better?” Trahearne said at length.

“A little, thank you,” Caoilfhionn said, and was a little disappointed as Trahearne disengaged from the hug, though he didn’t move far. “What happens next?” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away what was left of his tears, though he knew his eyes would still be yellow-rimmed for a while yet. And the tears might return later. Would return later.

Trahearne looked up at the stars, and Caoilfhionn looked up at him, at that beautiful, sharp-featured profile. “We must find allies for the fight to retake Claw Island before the Risen can use it as a jumping off point to invade Lion’s Arch in full. I have some ideas, and I’m sure the Order heads will have more. …Would you like to come with me?”

“I would,” Caoilfhionn said. “Where are you going?”

“I know a pair of Sylvari back in Caledon Forest, Tegwen and Carys. They are skilled Wardens, and knowledgeable about the Risen. Both have traveled to Orr and lived to speak of it.”

“What are they like?”

“They are close companions. Tegwen is elder and wiser. Carys…” Trahearne made a wry face. “…is Carys. You’ll see.”

“Yes.”

Silence fell between them, only the creak of the ship and the wash of the waves to be heard. The night wind was humid but cool. His emotions were spent into the embrace of the dusk, and he was tired, but not sleepy. He didn’t feel much of anything, actually. It was… strange. Unnatural, for him.

Trahearne cleared his throat hesitantly. “I meant to say it before, but… you look well. In those clothes.”

“Thank you.”

“Extremely well, even.”

Caoilfhionn managed a tiny smile. “My sister makes them.”

“I recall.” Trahearne abruptly got up. “You should try to rest, if you can. I will need to track down Tegwen and Carys tomorrow, and it will be a hard fight ahead of us afterwards.”

“I will try,” Caoilfhionn said. “Thank you for helping me.”

“I thought you might want the support of another Sylvari.” Trahearne paused. “Your guild is also worried about you; Annhilda asked me to come to you. And the Asura… Phiadi is also grieving alone, much like you were. I think she will put on a strong face tomorrow. Be patient with her.”

“I understand,” Caoilfhionn said. “We all lost someone today.”

Trahearne nodded. “They are interesting people. You should tell me more of them, when you are of a mind to.”

Caoilfhionn choked back a sniffle. “I’ll be all right tomorrow. Thank you. And I’ll thank them, too.”

* * *

Tegwen and Carys were to be found far to the south of Lion’s Arch, in the swamps of Bloodtide Coast, and they were quite willing to come and join the struggle after they completed their own quest – they, and about forty friends!

“A unit of battle-trained Sylvari with experience in Orr? What more could we ask for?” Caoilfhionn said.

“Thank you,” Trahearne said to them. “We’ll see you in Lion’s Arch.”

“I look forward to helping you,” Tegwen said. “Perhaps fighting those creatures attacking Lion’s Arch will quell the nightmares…”

“Tumbling turnips, I hope so!” Carys said. “But I’m glad we sent this undead to the Mists. Which are far from the dragon. Very, very far. Lucky her, really.”

Trahearne and Caoilfhionn bowed to them and withdrew, leaving Carys to chatter and Tegwen to organize the striking of the Sylvari camp. “I’m concerned,” Trahearne said. “The Orrians will surely be using this time to become entrenched. Even with their aid, it will be incredibly difficult to regain Claw Island.”

“We can’t give up hope, Trahearne,” Caoilfhionn said earnestly – after he’d had time to rest, he’d woken up far more determined than before. Sieran’s death would not be in vain.

Trahearne gave him a little smile. “I haven’t lost hope. In fact, I’m counting on hope to lead the way.”

“Hope’s Legacy, even?” Caoilfhionn asked coyly. He’d had opportunity to gush about his new companions that morning, and Trahearne had listened attentively.

“That goes without saying,” Trahearne rejoined in deadpan, and continued. “I feel that we should ask for wisdom from the Pale Tree. If anyone knows how to defeat Zhaitan, it is the Mother. Let us go to the Grove.”

Caoilfhionn nodded, and closed his eyes, reaching out to the invisible currents of magic that let him sense the Asuran waypoints. A breath later, and he found himself back in the familiar loveliness of the Grove, surrounded by the laughter and music and falling water that played there constantly. The scent of flowers fair assaulted him, and he breathed deeply of it. It was good to be home!

Trahearne appeared beside him, and led the way to the Omphalos Chamber. The Pale Tree was waiting. “Welcome, my sons.”

“Hail, Mother,” Trahearne said, and the two Sylvari knelt before her. “We seek your wisdom.”

“I know why you have come,” said the Tree. “Bide a while. I have much to show you both.”

“Mother, I am sure by now you have heard of the destruction at Claw Island. Zhaitan is attacking in force.”

“The soul of Tyria mourned as her children were cut down by the beast,” said the Tree mournfully, gazing into the distance. “The land wept, and the world shuddered. Many of my children were slain…”

“Caoilfhionn and I seek to right that wrong,” Trahearne said. “We wish to take back what was lost. We’ve come to ask your counsel.”

“The answer is at the heart of Tyria’s future – and your own. Both of you must face the darkness, and become guiding stars in the night.” She smiled. “ _Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way_.”

“But Mother, is it even possible to defeat Zhaitan?” Caoilfhionn asked.

“Only with great courage, my son. Come. I will show you a vision of your future, and the challenges to come…” She gestured, and Caoilfhionn found his eyes falling shut.

He opened them to find himself in a dim, hazy world, like a… like _the_ Dream, but far less distinct than he remembered it being from before his Awakening. Towering shapes loomed about them. Trahearne was the only distinct thing he could see, dark and solid, and he drew closer to him nervously. The Avatar of the Tree floated a little before them, shining in the dimness.

“Where are we?” he asked, peering up at the massive cliffs around them. They were not completely natural, and not completely unnatural – at least, it didn’t look like it. He couldn’t make heads or tails of them at all.

“Orr,” Trahearne said at once. “This is Orr, near to the Royal Tombs at Azabe Qabar. We are within the Dream, Caoilfhionn. It is a dangerous honour.”

“Dangerous?” His Dream had not been dangerous until the dragon showed up, and even then, it would not have killed him before he was born, would it? Or was it possible? He had not thought about it before.

“The Dream is not reality. It is made of memory, aether, and powerful magic. Even I do not understand it. The things here are as real as you or I, and they will seek to do us harm. …But more than that… I question if I am ready to see the truths it reveals.”

Caoilfhionn reached out to touch his elbow. “I’m with you, Trahearne.”

Trahearne glanced at him and smiled. “I will remember that, Caoilfhionn. Thank you. Now let us hurry. The Mother Tree cannot maintain a shard of the Dream like this for very long.”

“Is this truly what Orr is like?” Caoilfhionn asked as they walked onwards. “Is this what you were describing to me before?”

“Yes. I know these paths as if they were of the Caledon. Grim, isn’t it?”

“Where does Zhaitan live?”

“In the tarnished city of Arah, to the south.” Trahearne pointed, though in the brown half-light Caoilfhionn had no notion of any direction. “Would you like to hear more about it?”

“Yes, please!”

“Hmm… They say that Orr was once beautiful. A nation to rival Kryta, Ascalon, and Elona. The Human gods lived in the city of Arah, and the people here were blessed. After the gods left, the humans banded into guilds and warred upon each other. The Guild Wars caused great devastation, and the nations faltered.” Trahearne cast a glance at him. “You cannot see its beauty now, I think.”

“I scarce know what I am looking at,” Caoilfhionn said. All he could make out clearly was cracked masonry beneath his feet and wave-wrinkled sand dunes beside the road. “That giant circle…”

“It has been suggested that these great discs once floated in the air.”

Caoilfhionn made a disgruntled face. “Whatever for?”

“I do not know… Where are we going, Mother?”

“To the ancient city of Arah,” said the Pale Tree. “Along the way, you will glimpse things that may yet come to pass.”

And so they walked, briskly, and Caoilfhionn stared at the strange, dead land and the ghostly beings that wandered it. Was this truly what it was like? But it had to be, didn’t it? The Pale Tree could not have been there herself. What she knew must come from the memories of Trahearne and other Sylvari who had been there. So unless something had changed drastically since the last time Trahearne had been to this spot, this was what Orr looked like.

He still didn’t think it was right to mock Trahearne for having an impossible task. Even though it was looking more impossible to him every moment.

“Where was I?” Trahearne said after a moment. “Oh, yes, the Guild Wars. Still angry over the loss of Ascalon, the Charr struck hard while humanity fought with itself. The Charr ravaged Ascalon with searing cauldrons and marched on Orr. As hope failed, an Orrian named Vizier Khilbron read the Lost Scrolls and unleashed an ancient curse. The curse annihilated the Charr army, but it destroyed Orr as well. A cataclysm plunged the nation into the ocean. Everything was lost.”

“Is that why all this looks… seaweedy?” Caoilfhionn asked.

“Yes… A hundred years out of the ocean has not swept it away. It was Zhaitan, the Elder Undead Dragon, that pulled Orr from the depths. The massacre of Orr gave the dragon fertile ground to create its horrific army. And Zhaitan’s power does not end here. In slaughter, its army grows stronger. Claw Island was just the beginning. …The dragons are destruction. They will not stop until all life on Tyria is destroyed.”

“Then we will stop _them_ – what is _that_?”

A hulking undead brute lurched into their view, and it turned its head and _saw them_. Caoilfhionn reacted on instinct, darting forward to skid along a line of fire past its legs; it swatted at him with a vast claw, but too late to catch him. He heard Trahearne shout, and a barrage of necromantic spells lashed out at the undead as it turned to follow Caoilfhionn. He cast more fire at it, rolled, and cast again. It was tough, seeming not to feel anything he did, as he ran through his repertoire – ice shards, stone spikes, lightning bolts. “Come after me, you bastard!” He was more smaller, more nimble, better able to cast and dodge simultaneously than Trahearne. He’d keep it off him so he could cast more strongly.

“Caoilfhionn, look out!” Trahearne cried, jumping forward – why? – and he flung himself away from another swing of its claws. The sheer force of the draft draft knocked him stumbling forward and into a tree of dead coral, which crumbled under his weight into jagged fragments. “ _Caoilfhionn!_ ”

He gathered his balance and spun, just as the creature’s arm landed with a thud beside him – torn off by Trahearne’s magic. “Nice one! Get back!” For it was turning to attack Trahearne with a roar. Caoilfhionn gathered his strength and launched himself forwards, blocking its path, tearing through it with a searing wall of fire. His dagger plunged to the hilt in its chest and erupted in flame.

It fell backwards to the ground with a groan, and Trahearne sagged in relief.

“You should be more careful!” Caoilfhionn scolded him. “I was fine. I was trying to keep you out of danger!”

“That’s enough cheek out of you, sapling,” Trahearne said, panting, with a raised eyebrow and a smile that was half-grimace. “I was trying to keep _you_ out of danger.” As Caoilfhionn gaped in astonishment, he turned to the Mother Tree. “These creatures are formidable. Tougher than the ones at Claw Island. How will we defeat them?”

“Alone, you cannot,” said the Pale Tree, lifting him with her hand. “But with unity, you will find that many impossible things can be achieved.”

There was a small encampment to the right, ringed about with steel fences and thorny vines, and the Pale Tree led them through its gates. There were many insubstantial spirits within, an army even, of all the races – of all the Orders. Charr, Norn, Asura, Vigil, Whispers, Priory, they were all there. He even recognized a couple of the Priory folk who were there. Was he there, he wondered?

And suddenly he lost all interest in looking for himself among the crowd, for an image of Trahearne stood before them, a confident Trahearne, who raised his hand and his voice to address them. “Defenders of Tyria! When Zhaitan rose from slumber, the dragon found a long-dead nation and claimed it. The dragon expected the rest of Tyria to be as easily conquered. But we live… and we breathe… and we _fight!_ All races, all Orders, and all paths of life stand against Zhaitan. The dragon is a fearsome enemy. It wants nothing more than to paralyze us with doubt. But I tell you this: _I am not afraid!_ I may die, but _I will never kneel!_ ”

The ground shook as a distant sound rumbled through the world. Caoilfhionn gasped, and found real-Trahearne beside him looked almost as alarmed.

But Dream-Trahearne pointed towards the sound, his eyes alight with defiance. “Do you feel that? The dragon hears us! It is the dragon who is afraid!” He gestured to the army to follow, and turned towards the gate. “Now to Arah, and victory!”

The army cheered, a hearty roar that shook Caoilfhionn perhaps more than the dragon’s cry had done, and streamed out around Dream-Trahearne, eagerly clutching their weapons.

Trahearne turned to the Pale Tree, his mouth hanging open. “Is this a vision of the future? Mother, I… I do not understand. I’m no general.” Commander Talon had said as much, Caoilfhionn remembered. Though given what other things Commander Talon had thought, Caoilfhionn was not going to believe his words as granite truth.

“You must be what Tyria needs you to be, my son. You have more courage than you realize.”

“Do I?” Trahearne said in a low voice. “Can I truly stand before an army and say such stirring words, and mean them?”

Caoilfhionn gave him a lopsided smile. “You should write them down anyway, just in case you need them later.”

Trahearne barked a short laugh. “Perhaps I will.”

The other visions they saw were no less disconcerting. A vision showing Destiny’s Edge in grief after their fracture, and Caithe – future-Caithe falling into Nightmare, joining Faolain to spend her last days seeking the love that real-Caithe had already rejected as lies; a vision of the last king of Orr, speaking cryptic words before disappearing again, leaving them no wiser than before.

They stopped at a great plaza, a massive ring of stairs leading to a vast hall lined with statues of the Human gods. “This is the Promenade of the Gods, that leads to the gates of Arah,” Trahearne said. “Of all the places I have been on Orr, I have not yet been past those doors. This is as far as we will go, is it not, Mother?”

“But a little farther,” she said. “Your last challenge on the road to Arah will be the guardian of the gate. Beyond this… I cannot foretell.”

She turned to Trahearne, and both Sylvari were seized with an immense solemnity, and knelt before her. “Once before, I gave this sword to a beloved son. Now, I pass it on to you, Trahearne.” She held out her slender hand, and the shining greatsword was in it, hilt first. “Caladbolg is yours. Bear it with honour, and the sword will never fail you.”

Trahearne stammered. “M-Mother… this is the greatest honour. I pray that I am worthy of it.”

“You are, my dear son. And you will need it in the trials ahead. Caoilfhionn… This dagger is not of my flesh, but it was grown by your sister, Eithne. I have given it what strength I can to aid you.”

“Thank you, Mother Tree,” Caoilfhionn said, accepting the dagger, intertwined wood and steel and opals; it shed faint teal sparkles in his hand, humming silently with an inner power. “I will thank Eithne as soon as I can.”

“Now go! Test yourselves against the guardian, and I shall speak with you after.”

The two knights saluted her and walked forward to see what awaited them. Caoilfhionn took his old dagger in his left hand and his new dagger in his right. He would forego the shields of his focus from now on, trusting in his speed and positioning to bear him through the battles to come.

He felt his power flow easily, strongly through his new weapon, and Trahearne seemed to need only a few moments before Caladbolg rested easy in his hands – to be sure, for all that Trahearne was slender, he was taller than Caoilfhionn, if not as tall as Riannoc, which surely made it easier for him – and together, they made short work of the guardian of the gate.

They awoke from the dream the moment it fell, and they rose from the grass of the Omphalos Chamber, where two of the leaf pups had begun climbing on Caoilfhionn. He carefully removed them and stood. His new blade was at his side. “Are you all right, Trahearne?”

Trahearne’s brow was furrowed again. “I am newly inspired… yet I feel as if the burden of my Wyld Hunt is growing even heavier.”

“Why is that?”

“I must see Orr green again. But how? Can you say you looked upon that place and saw a blossoming future? Truly?”

Caoilfhionn was taken aback. “I thought you had such a clear vision of what it would be-”

“Yes, but _how?_ The answer yet eludes me, and I-” He huffed impatiently.

Caoilfhionn put out a hand to his elbow again. “We will find it together. I know it. The Mother Tree said there were no certainties in that vision. But there _was_ hope.”

Trahearne sighed, breathing out his frustration, and his face eased. “Thank you, Caoilfhionn.”

The Pale Tree’s avatar stepped closer, compassion written across her face. “To know the future, even a mere possibility, can be a great burden. I am sorry, brave heroes of mine, that you must walk this path.”

Trahearne looked up at her. “Must these things come to pass, Mother? Must I take up Caladbolg and travel into the heart of Orr like that?”

“You must both take up this mantle. Trahearne, your duty is to cleanse Orr. Caoilfhionn, you shall aid him… and then face the dragon.”

“And Claw Island?” asked Caoilfhionn. “Can we retake it and save Lion’s Arch?”

“I believe so… but that will not be your first test. The dragon seeks to destroy its enemies before they can strike. I see within the Dream that Zhaitan’s forces enter battle – not against Lion’s Arch, but at the heart of Tyria’s Orders… including the Priory.”

“The Priory? If my friends are in danger, I have to go to them. They do not know – they’ll be slaughtered!”

Trahearne put a hand on his shoulder. “I will go with you. Our fates are bound together, and from this day forward, we fight as one.”

The Tree nodded. “Farewell, valiant souls. May your Wyld Hunts be successful, and may your courage illuminate the dark of night.”

“Thank you for everything, Mother!” Caoilfhionn said, smiling hopefully at her, and reached out to teleport.


	15. The Marshal of the Pact

15: The Marshal of the Pact

They found Annhilda leading, with Gixx, a spirited defense of the Priory’s halls. Shocking as it was to see it overrun with undead, to see robed bodies lying bloody and lifeless in the central corridor, to see the wreckage of a large megalaser that had exploded, the defenders were holding their own. With Caoilfhionn and Trahearne plunging into the fray at the enemy’s back, Caladbolg singing its blazing light into their midst, and Caoilfhionn darting forward on trails of fire, the tide turned for good, and soon they cleared the horde that threatened the Priory.

“Thank the Pale Tree we arrived in time to help!” Trahearne said, when they gathered in the central chamber afterwards.

“The Mother Tree is very wise,” Caoilfhionn explained. “She sensed the peril here and directed us to come. If the Priory had fallen, we’d never be able to defend Lion’s Arch.”

“Huh,” Wegaff said. “She can sense that far, hmm? Interesting. I wonder what mechanism that takes… Also, I’m really glad you made it back! Especially after…”

“I know,” Caoilfhionn said. “Sieran was so brave. I miss her.”

“As do I. But it’s a good thing I made it back early from my mission,” Annhilda said. “That odd duo will work with us, and their weapon, too.”

“What odd duo?” Trahearne asked.

“Barron and Fero,” said Gixx. “The researchers. You remember them, yes?”

“Yes, I’ve known them for years,” Trahearne said. “They know what they’re doing. I think.”

Annhilda laughed heartily. “Can you understand them? They speak even more in riddles than Sigrytha.”

“Eh… no… not entirely.” Trahearne rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “But their work speaks for them.”

“But we can’t defend Lion’s Arch with the Priory alone,” Annhilda said. “And we definitely can’t fight Zhaitan like this. We may have the knowledge, but we lack both an army and the resources.”

“We can’t have that kind of peace-loving, low-down poltroon talk!” Gixx exploded. “Did the Risen strike you on the head? We cannot give up the struggle!”

“Annhilda suggested no such thing,” Caoilfhionn said. “Trahearne, do you remember what the Pale Tree said? ‘With unity, many impossible things can be achieved’. Steward, the other Orders of Tyria share our concerns about the dragons. The Priory should contact them and divulge information on Orr.”

Wynnet Fairhaired frowned and crossed her arms. “Terrible idea. The Orders of Whispers are underhanded backstabbers, and those brainless warmongers in the Vigil are even worse.”

“Not so, Wynnet,” Trahearne said. “They simply have their own ways of fighting Zhaitan. Both would be staunch allies in this war. For a war it is, whether or not we acknowledge it to be so.”

Gixx sighed grumpily. “Perhaps you’re right. The fact that Zhaitan could strike at the Priory’s heart shakes me to the core. I trust you, Trahearne, and you too, Magister Caoilfhionn and Magister Annhilda. Fine! Go to the other orders. Set up a meeting. Tell them that the Durmand Priory respectfully wishes to negotiate terms of accord.”

“Thank you, Steward,” Trahearne said, bowing. “I’ll do everything I can.”

“And I,” Caoilfhionn said. “Annhilda, would you like to go to the Order of Whispers, or shall I?”

* * *

They met in Lion’s Arch, at the southern fort near to the docks to Claw Island. Caoilfhionn was glad he’d had Phiadi’s help to wrangle Preceptor Halvora into agreeing to come; her intensity was halved when confronted with both of them together. He soon found that Annhilda had been successful, with Damara and Rhyoll to help her; and he also learned that Zhaitan had attacked both the other Orders simultaneously to the Priory. Disconcerting.

The meeting did not get off to a good start. Hope’s Legacy’s members escorted their various leaders together and then stepped aside to chat amongst themselves, but were soon recalled by loud arguing sounds.

Trahearne marched in with a Lionguard officer beside him, looked around at all of them, and lifted his voice. “Enough bickering, all of you! Our real enemy lurks across the waves. Zhaitan’s servants march at the gates of Lion’s Arch. We must band together, or we will all be destroyed.”

Caoilfhionn stared with admiration. There was something… different about him today. He seemed… taller, more confident, Caladbolg resting easily at his back. But he shook himself out of his reverie – he needed to help. “When I joined the Priory, I swore to fight Zhaitan.” Actually, he’d sworn it when he Awoke, but that had no relevance to anyone but himself. “I will _die_ for Tyria, if I must. But I believe that together we can win.”

“Caoilfhionn’s right,” Damara said. “The Vigil has shown tremendous courage in the fight against the dragons. This alliance will require all of that courage just the same. Why should we back down now?”

“The Order of Whispers has seen nations rise and fall,” Phiadi said, shaking her finger at Halvora. “I’ve calculated that we cannot hide from _this_ threat. We need to make a stand.”

“And who knows more about the dragons than the Priory?” asked Annhilda. “Just think of how much more there is to learn in Orr.”

The leaders hesitated. “There must be a decent hierarchy,” growled Almorra Soulkeeper. “Who’s going to lead this compact?”

“Logic dictates that it cannot be a member of any of our orders, lest one be seen as above the other two,” said Gixx. “Quite a conundrum!”

“So it can’t be anyone from Hope’s Legacy, though they’ve moved mountains to bring us together,” Halvora said thoughtfully.

“Oh,” Phiadi said, sarcastically dramatic, “if _only_ there were some _brave soul_ who has always stood apart from the Orders, someone whom _everyone_ trusts and yet cannot _possibly_ be biased – probably!”

Caoilfhionn looked at Trahearne – Gixx had said he trusted him, hadn’t he? And now everyone was looking at Trahearne, who looked back, impassive, noncommittal.

“Please,” Caoilfhionn said gently, “won’t you lead us, Trahearne? I believe in you.”

Trahearne drew and let out a long breath. “I… I never wanted to be a soldier. I’m only a seeker of truth. But… yes.” His eyes flashed with determination. “I will lead this pact to the gates of Arah, and together, we will see Zhaitan destroyed.”

“It’s settled then,” Almorra said. “The Vigil will follow Trahearne. Marshal Trahearne!”

“Aye,” Halvora said. “The Order of Whispers can accept this. Steward Gixx?”

“Naturally,” Gixx snapped. “What are we waiting for?”

Trahearne nodded. “First, to Claw Island. Let us send our defiant message straight into the heart of Orr: Tyria stands as one!” The three Order leaders saluted him, and he nodded gravely. “To begin with, we need ships. This is Lionguard Apatia, and she is our liaison with the Lionguard forces that will be accompanying us. I have already spoken with Commodore Marriner, and all the ships we need should be ready within two hours. That gives us two hours to refine our plan of attack. I will see you all in the war room in five minutes.”

The room erupted into a flurry of activity. Caoilfhionn clapped softly to himself. Trahearne had always had a quiet, intelligent confidence; not necessarily commanding, but he had his pride, and when he spoke, people listened. Whether it was Caladbolg’s influence, or his own acceptance of his destiny, his aura was bright now – that star in the night the Pale Tree had spoken of. “…Trahearne!”

“How are you?” Trahearne made his way over to him. “As you heard, I only have a minute. Leading this conjoined force will be a difficult task, I think.”

“I’m well,” Caoilfhionn said, flustered. “You can do it. I’ll be right beside you.”

“I’d have you nowhere else,” Trahearne said, even if he said it a little bit absently. He sighed. “All my life, I’ve watched Orr. Studied it. Researched the abominations that Zhaitan spawns. But… I avoided the challenge of my Wyld Hunt. I hid, always claiming I was not yet ready. I did not think Orr could be cleansed. I did not fear death. I feared failure. But… it is time to act. In the end, it is better to fight and lose than never to fight at all.”

“I believe that too,” Caoilfhionn said earnestly. “Though… I fear I believe it because I am still very young and romantic.” The way Trahearne said it implied he’d come to it from another path.

Trahearne chuckled. “Indeed. Well. I must help them hash out our plan of attack. I can’t imagine you’ll find it interesting.”

“I’ll be right there, after I’ve said hello to Carys and Tegwen,” Caoilfhionn said – had he not just said he’d be at his side the whole way? Trahearne nodded and turned to go- “Trahearne!” And as Trahearne stopped, he became flustered again. “Er… ah… You look good. With Caladbolg, I mean.”

“Thank you,” Trahearne said, with a funny little smile.

* * *

The war meeting was thrilling to be on the edges of – so many experts in one place, the best of the best of Tyria, all convening! But even more thrilling, and a lot more sobering, was the actual assault. The bone ships only patroled the southern sides of the island, so the docks, tucked away on the north, were still free… though covered with zombies. Hope’s Legacy led the charge to clear them, and then led the charge to the lighthouse to hook up the weapon that would blow open the gate to let them in. The undead howled, staggering towards them with uncanny speed, and Caoilfhionn set a ring of fire in their way, torching many of them before they even hit the front line of Vigil soldiers.

Despite complications, they made it to the lighthouse on schedule, and cheered as the gate was blown to smithereens, allowing the rest of the forces to invade the fortress. He could see Trahearne from this distance by the light of Caladbolg, shining across the battlefield, and cheered him on softly. He was leading soldiers and everything!

But then as he came down from the lighthouse, the shadow of the dragon passed over them briefly and his cheer fled again. Sieran’s body would not rise again, such was a blessing granted to the Sylvari, but would he see other bodies he knew arrayed against them? Tybalt, Forgal, Talon?

He’d never know, as the soldiers streamed in, fighting hard against the undead defenders. The flash of Professor Gorr’s experimental rifles flickered across the stones, in the hands of several Human mercenaries; Norn mercenaries fought beside them, fewer but louder. Trahearne and a small company were waiting for the lighthouse team at the gate; the rest had spread out to capture the walls. “Well done, everyone. Now we must secure the bridge overlooking the courtyard. From there, I’ll be able to command.”

“I’ll get you there,” Caoilfhionn said, and corrected himself. “We’ll get you there.”

There was no time to think, in the thick of things, only to cast, as hard and fast as possible, blasting the undead out of their way. Annhilda was charging with her sword and shield, blinking ahead, cleaving the enemy in two. Rhyoll was nearly an entire mechanical army unto himself, between his turrets, his flamethrower, and his Charrzooka – though he was saving that last for the dragon. Damara’s bear roared as it struck down the enemy, backed up by rapid arrows from its mistress, and Phiadi’s minions swarmed over the undead, tearing them to pieces as she cursed them with magic. Hope’s Legacy was unstoppable!

They reached the top of the bridge, Trahearne and his guard just behind, and the Firstborn hopped up lightly to the edge of the parapet. “Excellent. We’ll hold this point. I need Hope’s Legacy to help clear the courtyard to prepare for our final assault on that dragon.”

“Got it,” Annhilda said, and led them back down the other side of the bridge. Caoilfhionn waved before he ran to join her.

The dragon had been flying about the island, in circles, stooping to breathe foul poison across the courtyard, but now as they slew the last undead within the fortress, it came to land. The ground shook as it landed on the southern plateau, and his ears hurt as it roared, deafening, filling all the world with its rage.

“Fire!” cried Trahearne, his voice magically amplified so all the island could hear it, and the cannons boomed out, the Priory-researched Psi-lance and the Charr-made Ghostbore cannon among them, tearing the dragon’s wings apart with their specially-modified ammunition. The dragon screamed and staggered, flapped its wings once uselessly, reflexively, to try and get away, then screamed again – and spat poison at the walls. Engineers dove for cover as a number of cannons melted.

“Forward!” called Trahearne, and Caoilfhionn dashed for the gap in the wall with the rest of Hope’s Legacy, with the rest of the army. “Be wary, it’s calling for the dead to rise!”

They formed up around Rhyoll, protecting him from waves of grubs as he raised his Charrzooka – but the missile sputtered out halfway to its target, falling to the sandy grass and lying inert. Rhyoll turned to gesture towards Trahearne’s post, a big negative gesture with his arms over his head. “I’ve got another one! Give me a minute to get it ready!”

Even if Trahearne couldn’t hear his shout, he could read the gestures. “Protect Rhyoll! Keep it busy! Don’t get surrounded!”

Caoilfhionn sprinted forwards. He could play bait, and he could play it well. The dragon was so huge, now that he was up among its talons, bigger than the one he’d fought in his Dream. A single blow from its foot would have crushed him like a worm, and its jaws contained teeth as long as his arm, and that was to say nothing of its deadly breath. And it stank like a whole charnel house – not that he’d been inside many charnel houses – dripping with seawater and pus. But Trahearne’s voice carried over the crashing melee, over the shouts and screams and the ringing of steel and the thunder of spells, the hiss of arrows and the crack of rifles, the thud of the dragon’s feet, the howl of its breath. And to hear that voice, unwavering, certain, telling him just what Trahearne saw from his vantage point, buoyed him up on a wave of determination.

Determination and vengeance – it was this dragon that had taken Sieran from them, and he filled it with all the fire in his slender body, channeling all his power through both his daggers into the dragon’s rotting flesh as it loomed above them. He tried to defend his allies, too, breaking stone across the grubs and rotmouths that tried to flank them, blowing cool healing water across his companions, even helping Annhilda up after she’d been knocked back by a blow from the dragon’s fist.

By Ventari’s tablet, it was no easy enemy to come to grips with! It screamed and he nearly fell to the ground with the horror of its piercing, deafening wail, heard Carys whimper when he could hear again. Now it was Damara helping him up, the warmth of her firm handgrip grounding him. His breath rasped in his lungs as he ducked away from another flying grub; his legs burned with exertion but he would not stop now. He was close to the dragon’s left foreclaw, and raked it with fire, trying to cripple it further. It did not seem to feel pain, ignoring him to lower its head to breathe across a clump of Vigil archers, who began to scatter haphazardly.

“Keep it steady!” Rhyoll yelled. “I’m ready now! I can finish this!”

Caoilfhionn did not have a staff, which would have helped more, but he switched to Water anyway, channeling ice into the dragon’s foreclaw – if he could hold it down…

An explosion went off near him, and a Charrzooka missile whooshed past, and into the dragon’s face. For an instant, all Caoilfhionn could see was fire, blossoming about the dragon’s head like a cloud of scarlet hydrangeas – and then he realized, that was all there _was_ to see. The bony jaw fell with a massive thud to the ground, and the rest of the dragon slowly leaned and slid over, headless.

Annhilda whooped next to him, followed by Rhyoll himself, and in a moment the whole army was cheering with delight and victory. Trahearne’s voice washed over them, ecstatic, proud. “We did it! We recaptured Claw Island, and in so doing, saved Lion’s Arch. Well done, everyone! Secure the island and take an assessment of the damage. Commanders, to me when you’re ready.”

Caoilfhionn was not a commander, but Hope’s Legacy was definitely expected to report back to him, or so he reasoned, because he really wanted to see him as soon as possible, not count destroyed cannons. Of course, he’d wait until the actual leaders were finished…

“You realize this ‘pact’ only has a one in three thousand seven hundred and twenty chance of succeeding?” he overheard a Priory Historian asking on his way to the wall.

“If that ‘one’ is Trahearne, I’ll take those odds,” Wegaff said, and Caoilfhionn glowed at his friend’s support.

He didn’t have to wait long; it seemed they all had a good idea what to do next, and Wynnet, Doern, and Efut all dispersed shortly. Caoilfhionn stepped forward, smiling fit to burst, and as Trahearne saw them, he smiled too – one of the widest smiles Caoilfhionn had ever seen on him. “Thank you, my friends. Fantastic shot, Rhyoll.”

“Thanks!” Rhyoll said, tail wagging with glee. “Just glad I could get the Bonebuster missile working. Was working on it since we last saw that rotting bugger.”

“We’re very fortunate that you did,” Trahearne said. “We’ve accomplished something amazing today.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you, either,” Caoilfhionn said.

“Hear, hear,” Annhilda said. “Good call-outs, Trahearne.”

Trahearne nodded. “Thank you. I do not know what lies ahead of us, but for the first time, I have hope. Hope that this alliance can save Tyria from the dragons. Hope for the future.” He turned to look south. “Hope… for Orr.”

“This was a momentous day,” Annhilda said. “The tide of history has changed, Trahearne.”

“Indeed,” Trahearne said, a new light in his eyes that Caoilfhionn had never seen before. “Many people doubted. Even the Orders weren’t truly certain it could be done. Never before has Tyria been so united. Let Orr hear the echo of this battle! We can defeat the dragons. We will!” He turned back to them, his confidence fair streaming from him. “Though without the five of you, without Hope’s Legacy, we would not have prevailed. I daresay you are the most bold and effective guild since Destiny’s Edge themselves. Thank you for being here.”

“You couldn’t leave us behind,” Damara said, laughing. “We wouldn’t stand for that. But I bet when you go for Orr, many more guilds will join up too.”

“But we were here first,” Phiadi said smugly. “And so, we are, quite simply, the best.”

Rhyoll laughed. “We’d be the best even if we were late to the party, don’t even worry about it.”

Trahearne nodded, smiling. “Now, go get some rest. I will have much work for you later – if you’re willing.”

“Absolutely, we’re willing,” Annhilda said. “You just let us know what you want done.”

“Then rest,” Trahearne told them. “I see that look in your eyes – you want to help. But you fought the hardest this day – I know it! I myself put you in the thickest of the fighting, and now you must recover. I will need you at your best in the fight to come, too. Go on.”

“Don’t forget to rest, yourself,” Caoilfhionn said, stepping even further forward. “I know you worked just as hard as we did, commanding the battle, even if you didn’t run about on the ground with us. And you must take care of yourself… Marshal.” He said the title half-teasingly, half to rub in that if Trahearne began his leadership by running himself into the ground, he wouldn’t be good for anything.

Trahearne chuckled. “I promise. Go on, Caoilfhionn.”

“I’m holding you to that!”

“Caoilfhionn!”

“I’m going!”


	16. Your Place Is At My Side

16: Your Place Is At My Side

It was hours before Trahearne felt satisfied with the order being restored to Claw Island. He’d processed the transfer of command to the new Lionguard Watch Commander, a serious-looking Human woman whom Apatia described as ‘straitlaced to a fault’, and the united Order forces were well on their way to finishing temporary defenses – and shelters for the wounded, and collection of the dead, both former undead and lost allies. He’d found the remains of his friends there, Sieran, Tybalt, and Forgal, and they would be buried with honours on the western side of the island. It was… not pleasant, and he was glad Caoilfhionn and the others of Hope’s Legacy were not there to see.

Being Marshal of this Pact was… interesting, so far. He’d been afraid of the responsibility, afraid he would not know what to say or do. It turned out not to be as bad as he’d feared. He could see the problems as they presented themselves, and he could see the solutions, and for the first time, people more or less listened when he told them to implement the solutions. Perhaps it was Caladbolg’s aid, but he was… beginning to think he could do this. Right to the end.

He was very weary when at last he felt he had done all he needed to do, and he made his way to the open-air shelter set up for the uninjured forces. It was dimly lit by a few candles, so those changing watch wouldn’t trip over those still sleeping, and here and there he saw those he knew – Doern zonked out with drool leaking over his beard, General Almorra snoring gently. And there was Hope’s Legacy, in the corner…

He moved over to Caoilfhionn, unhooking Caladbolg from his back so he didn’t accidentally hit anyone, and knelt beside him. There wasn’t space to lie down anywhere in the vicinity, of course, but he… he was weak, and wanted to look upon him, now that they’d come through this first test safe and sound. He could not count the times he’d felt his stomach lurch with fear to see Caoilfhionn zig-zagging his way through masses of undead on streams of fire, or dancing between the claws of the dragon while wreathed in swirls of water and ice. Yes, the young Valiant could well handle himself, but that wasn’t the point anymore.

He’d tried to fight it, to deny his feelings the space to grow. He’d never really felt this way before, first of all, burying himself in his work, not really noticing the people around him in that way. Shy, perhaps. Afraid of being hurt like he’d seen so many others hurt. And even if he had noticed them, anyone close enough to attract his interest drifted away from him as his obsession with Orr grew deeper. He didn’t need more disappointment in his life. And it wouldn’t have been fair to Caoilfhionn, either.

And yet… the more time they spent together, the more futile it was. His feelings grew beyond his control, a strong and determined vine within him that resisted all attempts at pruning or uprooting. He had to give up denying it existed. He could not fight it any longer. He’d tried. He’d thought it best. He’d lost utterly.

Caoilfhionn’s face was peaceful in his sleep, his lush blue lips curved gently into a contented smile, peach luminescence flowing slowly through every blue and violet vein, through his brow and his leaves, his cheekbones, his beard, and Trahearne felt his heart ache for him. He was beautiful, and young, and exquisitely joyful; he was dawn incarnate, pure and good and brave and just a little bit mischievous. His frame was slender and delicate, and yet such power he had within him – power that he was rapidly growing into. He found himself blinded every time Caoilfhionn looked at him with that trusting look he had, those enormous coral eyes alight with admiration, listening kindly to his theories and woes, believing in him so fervently that Trahearne had no choice but to follow suit.

But he’d overhead Sieran say Caoilfhionn loved someone, and well he could believe it. Caoilfhionn loved so easily, so passionately, with wild abandon – naturally he would already have someone special in mind. And there was no way in Tyria that he would ever feel for Trahearne what Trahearne felt for him. Trahearne was boring and depressing and – not that he was _old_ , despite being the eldest, but he was _older_ , by a long shot, and Caoilfhionn was so new, he ought to have someone his own age, someone who could reflect his bright Cycle of Dawn exuberance. It almost hurt to hear his compliments sometimes, to hear his admiration and his faith. Just that morning, when he’d said he looked good – with Caladbolg… how much more praise did he bestow on his beloved?

He was _not_ going to be jealous. He’d given up fighting his feelings, though that didn’t mean living with them was going to be any easier. He was just selfishly glad that this quest demanded them to work closely together, that Caoilfhionn seemed to like being his friend.

He wondered who it was that Caoilfhionn loved, and if he knew them. He did know a lot of people.

Even so. Trahearne loved him, and he would do everything in his power to ensure that he lived to tell that person of his love. He would be content to remain alone if only Caoilfhionn could be happy. He would even try his best to protect the people around him – seeing him grieve like he had was as if the sun failed to rise, and he could not stand for that to happen again.

Caoilfhionn shifted slightly, making a little sigh as he did so, and Trahearne swallowed at the protective feelings that surged within him. No, no one had better touch this man, or Mother help him, he would destroy them utterly.

He got up and found an open spot that would accommodate him and Caladbolg, and lay down, resigned to his patient love. And also very tired. And there would be much to do tomorrow.

* * *

The Pact returned to Lion’s Arch on the following day, and while the Order leadership went back to their headquarters with injunctions to meet again in three days at Fort Concordia, Hope’s Legacy stuck around with Trahearne as he went about more tasks. “What’s next, Marshal?” asked Annhilda, as they settled in at a tavern for lunch. “How are we getting to Orr?”

Trahearne tapped his fingertips on the table thoughtfully. “There is a ruined fortress at the edge of Kryta, south of the Shattercleft Hills. From that high cliff you can see the spires of Orr rising beyond the Straits of Devastation. We will take that fort and make it our own. The Pact will rebuild it. We will place our banners, and from there we will strike at the dragon’s heart.”

Annhilda lifted a finger for attention. “This fortress needs a name, a name that will inspire those stationed there. Have you had any ideas?”

Trahearne looked taken aback. “I’ve been so busy preparing for this assault… I haven’t given it much thought. I don’t recall off the top of my head what it was named when it was built, before it was abandoned… Do you have a suggestion?”

The others were silent, but Caoilfhionn already had thoughts. “The Pact is three groups, coming together as one. How about… Fort Trinity?”

Trahearne smiled. “That’s perfect. Fort Trinity it is.”

“And what’s our place in your plan?” Damara asked. “You seem to want to use us as figureheads, and it’s not hard for me to figure out why.”

“I’m glad you’re on top of things,” Trahearne said. “Yes, I’d like all of you in prominent positions in the Pact. Your guild is as important as Destiny’s Edge was in setting an example to the rest of Tyria, an example of diversity and unity. And so, Magister Annhilda, with your permission, I’d like to appoint you as my second-in-command.”

Annhilda blinked coolly and raised a red eyebrow. “I’m not a shaman of Wolf, but I will make him proud.”

“You have proven yourself,” Trahearne said. “You may have as little experience as I do in leading such a group, but I trust you – all of you – better than I trust many others, even those whom I’ve known for years."

“Even within the Orders themselves?” asked Phiadi skeptically.

“Of course I will have commanders within the Orders, hopefully the same ones we were working with yesterday, but I want you to stand with me not as representatives of your Order, but as yourselves – if that’s all right. Although I also wish to appoint at least Phiadi and Damara as commanders.”

“I see what you’re doing there,” Damara said, wagging a finger at him. “You’ve still got Priory/Vigil/Whispers representation going on, even if you’re asking us outside of our duties with them.”

“Partially,” Trahearne said. “But also, I know of your accomplishments. I might not know you as well as I know Caoilfhionn, but he has vouched for you, and I believe you would also be good leaders.”

“Caoilfhionn!” exclaimed Phiadi. “Tattling on us?”

Caoilfhionn waved his hands in denial. “I was just telling him about you and the guild and all the things you’ve done and how much fun it’s been with you! I didn’t know he was thinking about that!”

Trahearne chuckled. “Do not blame him for his enthusiasm. But would that be agreeable to all of you?”

“Aye,” Annhilda said. “I’d be proud to support you, Trahearne.”

“Me too!” Damara said. “I won’t let you down! Can’t wait to make my folks proud! …I guess they’re probably already terribly proud of me – any more, and the tavern’s going to sprout wings of its own accord, you know.”

“I suppose I’d be a fool to turn down this opportunity,” Phiadi said. “But you’re aware you’re granting power to an Asura. And I _am_ going to make use of it.”

“I know of your fights against the Inquest,” Trahearne said. “And I know that no matter how you try to disguise it, you fight for the future of Tyria. I trust you.”

Phiadi turned a darker shade of grey. “Ugh, don’t _say_ that! So _embarrassing_.”

“Rhyoll, I apologize, I feel you’ve been left out of this conversation, after you were the hero of the day yesterday…”

Rhyoll laughed heartily. “I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m not into being a commander or anything. I already made Centurion and Crusader. That’s already too much leadership for me. I just want to make interesting toys, and introduce all the Risen to the wonders of blackpowder.”

“I respect that,” Trahearne said. “And that was my guess upon hearing Caoilfhionn speak of you.”

“Good. But, for instance, how big of a gun do you think we’ll need to take down Zhaitan?”

Trahearne chuckled. “A damned big one, I imagine.”

“Too big,” muttered Damara.

“I want to see it,” Caoilfhionn said.

“Well, that’s what I want to work on next.”

“I will try to get you whatever you need,” Trahearne said. “I will be gathering the best smiths I can find, if you like creative company.”

“Well… I don’t _mind_ it. As long as they keep their paws off my workspace.”

Trahearne nodded. “Caoilfhionn, I have something else in mind for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Very well!” Caoilfhionn said cheerfully. “I don’t mind at all.”

Trahearne looked around at all of them, a little disconcerted. “That… was easier than I thought it would be. Thank you, all.”

“Wait, what’s Caoilfhionn’s job?” Phiadi demanded.

Trahearne hesitated. “I haven’t quite decided yet, and I’m not sure how to put it… Chief Morale Officer?”

Rhyoll laughed again. “That sounds right up his alley.”

Caoilfhionn looked quizzically at Trahearne. Somehow, he had the impression that Trahearne _had_ decided, knew exactly what he wanted to ask of Caoilfhionn, and just didn’t want to tell the others. He’d ask in a bit.

As they left the tavern and the others went their own ways, Caoilfhionn waited behind. “Trahearne…”

“Mmhmm?”

“I was wondering – you’ve appointed all these Commanders – Wynnet and Annhilda, Doern and Phiadi, Efut and Damara – should I report to one of them? I mean Wynnet or Annhilda?”

“No,” Trahearne said firmly. “You may report to Annhilda as the leader of Hope’s Legacy if circumstances require you to, and I acknowledge that I have made her my second-in-command, but within the Pact, your place is at my side.”

Caoilfhionn inhaled sharply. “That…”

“Let me explain…” Trahearne said hastily. “I may occasionally ask you to lead a mission, but more importantly, I will need your help and support in the days ahead.” His words were slowing, growing more hesitant. “I… need your friendship, more than anything else. …That is, if you’re willing! I ask you not as Marshal, but as your friend.”

Caoilfhionn felt a glow well up inside him. So that was what he had meant before! “Really? I would be honoured. I’m more than willing to keep standing by you, as much as you need. You’re one of my dearest friends!” _How_ dear, he wasn’t saying, but that didn’t matter – Trahearne wanted him around! Needed him around, even – as two trees were stronger when they leaned on each other, so he would let Trahearne lean on him when the surely-immense pressure of his position grew too great.

Trahearne gave him a wry little smile. “Your optimism, your hope, your courage keep me moving forward. I have the confidence now… but I still… ah… need you.” He turned away to look out at the Shiverpeaks. “I have felt the rush of victory, but also the burden we’ve taken on. We’ve brought them together and given them hope… but this fight was only a pale shadow of the things we’ll fight in Orr.” Trahearne shivered, almost imperceptibly. But Caoilfhionn saw it.

He reached out to him. “We can defeat them. One by one, if we have to.”

“Your spirit is unflagging, Caoilfhionn. This is exactly what I’m talking about. Your belief.”

“Believe in me who believes in you,” Caoilfhionn said, laughing. “We’ll do this. Together.”


	17. The Strength of the Firstborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this, I learned that the 70-80 quests are actually really long.
> 
> I used [Fodlan Winds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6AoUMxAM7U) for the fight scene in this chapter, both Rain and Thunder.
> 
> There's a wildly gratuitous cameo in this chapter of a character who probably shouldn't even be in this world. (shrugs)
> 
> I'm madly in love with Trahearne's voice, help lol. How is it so deliciously yummy!? Cheers to Matthew Brenher for having such a magnificent voice. :)

17: Strength of the Firstborn

Timberline Falls was one of Caoilfhionn’s favourite places in the Shiverpeaks, where the unutterably majestic mountains sloped down to lush green pine forests, spangled with glittering little ice-cold streams that chattered gaily as they swept into blue, blue lakes that were crystal clear once you dove in. Fort Concordia was a neat little timbered structure on a little island in the middle of one of the rivers, not the prettiest fort in the world despite the breathtaking location, but reasonably defensible against the local tribes of hostile grawl.

It was raining this day, a chill drizzle that promised harsher to come. Rhyoll was constantly trying to whip the wet from the tuft at the end of his tail. “It’s miserable out today!”

“I disagree,” Caoilfhionn said. “I love the sun, but it’s delightful today, too!”

Rhyoll glared at him. “Easy for you to say, walking plant. Look at me! I’m soaked through!”

Caoilfhionn turned to him in alarm. “ _Right_ through? It’s penetrated your skin?”

Phiadi rolled her eyes. “ _No_ , of course not, but it feels like it. You’re not freezing and feeling sodden?”

“No?”

“No, this is nice,” Annhilda said. “Damara, what’s your opinion?”

Damara shook her head. “Not my favourite. If only because it messes with my arrows. There isn’t much cover at Concordia, is there?”

They’d just arrived, and Caoilfhionn looked around. Wynnet, Doern, and Efut were already there, but… “Where’s Trahearne? Isn’t he here?”

“He just stepped out,” Wynnet said to him, gesturing to the south gate. “You can call him back in if you like. Your guild’s here now, so we can get started.”

“Thanks, I will,” Caoilfhionn said, and stuck his head out of the gate. Trahearne was standing quite still down by the water’s edge, watching it flow by, letting the rain fall on his head without concern. “Trahearne?”

The Firstborn looked to see him, with a brief smile that faded quickly. “I’m glad to see you. I need to convince the Orders that the path I’ve chosen is the right one. Reassure me: Hope’s Legacy will support me, yes?”

“All the way,” Caoilfhionn said firmly.

Trahearne took a deep breath. “Taking charge of an army – or even a group of strong-minded individuals – is new to me. I hope I sound more confident than I feel.”

“You were brilliant last time,” Caoilfhionn said, smiling sweetly. “Just remember that _they_ want to believe too.”

“Do they?” Trahearne shook his head. “I sense they still have doubts. Perhaps you and your friends could talk to them and discover the concerns they cannot voice to me.”

“I’ll do that,” Caoilfhionn assured him. “Wynnet likes me, and she likes Annhilda even more. I’m sure she’ll open up with a bit of talk.”

“Thank you,” Trahearne said, and they went back in the gate.

The meeting was brief, and it was only a short while before Caoilfhionn had gathered what he needed to know, with the help of his friends, and went unobtrusively with Trahearne into a corner while everyone else was still talking.

“What have you learned?” Trahearne asked, and frowned at the muddy ground before Caoilfhionn could answer. “It is underhanded to use you in this way, and yet…”

“You need to know, don’t you?” Caoilfhionn said. “If they won’t tell you, we ask for you, and then you can adjust without letting anything on. Then no one is offended or discommoded. But yes, they do have doubts, as you guessed. Wynnet says you’ll need charisma and a forceful personality to see this through.”

“I wonder if I have that sufficiently,” Trahearne said. “I was never one for charisma… Not compared to… Riannoc, or… or Faolain, at the beginning. Or Laranthir; have you met him?”

Caoilfhionn laughed. “I think you have it, you just don’t realize you do. When your passion shines through, you are _magnetic_ , Trahearne.”

“Difficult for me to believe,” Trahearne said dryly. “But in time, Zhaitan will give me the chance to prove myself. I simply hope they don’t abandon me before then.”

“You prove it each day, every day,” Caoilfhionn said. “They’ll see. I promise.” Surely this wasn’t his rose-tinted view getting in his way.

Trahearne smiled tolerantly. “It’s kind of you to say so. What I really need is the opportunity to show them I do speak the language of war- who’s that?”

A Human was rushing up to them, in mud-soaked Priory robes, waving his arms and yelling. As he made it up to the gate, he fell to the ground, gasping for air. “Somebody, help me! The team studying Rankor Ruins was overwhelmed by the undead!”

Trahearne and Caoilfhionn shared an alarmed look. “Rankor Ruins?” Trahearne exclaimed. “At the dig site?”

“Yes! Please… they’re trapped! Help them!”

“Right away,” Trahearne said. “Crusader Afanen! Agent Zrii! Hope’s Legacy! You’re with me. Efut, Wynnet, Doern, defend the fort until we return.”

Everyone saluted, and Trahearne led them south, across the river ford, to the remains of dwarven ruins. Caoilfhionn sniffed the damp air and frowned. There was a faint scent of rot under the wet earth and moss; the undead were definitely around.

“Something is definitely wrong here,” Trahearne said. “Everyone, our objective is to locate a missing Priory team. Zrii, I want you to conduct stealth reconnaissance while the rest of us take the main path through the ruins. We’ll draw the attention of any Orrians and thin out their numbers as we proceed. Rendezvous at the far end of the site.”

“Understood,” said Zrii, and vanished from sight.

Annhilda drew her sword and loosened her wrists. “I’m ready to teach those walking corpses a lesson. Are you ready, Hope’s Legacy?”

“More than ready!” Phiadi said, drawing her first minion out of the ground. “Huh, this one’s kinda cute.”

“Like I said before, I’m not liking this weather too much,” Damara said. “It’s going to be slippery, and much more of a challenge for me to land my arrows. I might go close-quarters on this one. But Orion will help put them down.” She lifted her arm and a great raven flew to her and began preening.

“I approve,” Annhilda told her with a grin. “Do what you have to.”

“I’ll _try_ not to blow up anything historically significant,” Rhyoll said. “Except as a last resort.”

Caoilfhionn laughed. “Let’s go rescue some researchers! Dispel this foul air!”

Crusader Afanen chuckled. “I’d heard the stories, but Hope’s Legacy really is what they say, isn’t it.”

“They truly are,” Trahearne said, taking Caladbolg in his hands. “We’re fortunate they’re on our side.”

The research camp was deserted, except for deceased bodies both mobile and immobile, but they found three living Asura up the hill, barricaded inside an ancient hut. After driving back the undead, they pushed further to find the rest of the team, inside a cave in the mountain. Rhyoll shook himself all over as they entered the cave, spraying rainwater everywhere. Well, it wasn’t like the rest of them could get _more_ wet.

“I hope we’re not too late,” said the Asura krewe leader, who introduced himself as Dobbs. “I’ve never returned from a dig without at least 65 percent of the people I set out with. I’d hate to see those numbers go down.”

“This is my last expedition with him,” said one of the researchers to Caoilfhionn under her breath. “Sooner or later I’m going to be on the wrong side of his ‘safely returned’ ratio.”

“I… don’t think I blame you,” Caoilfhionn said. Sure, archaeology was dangerous, but 65 percent…?

They were guided by the sound of fighting, and an Asura calling. “Hey! Over here! Help!”

“Kekt!” Caoilfhionn cried. “It has been a while!” The man who had been present when he first met Sieran was with a larger group of Priory researchers with their backs to the wall, holding off a swarm of grubs.

“Oh, I remember you,” Kekt said. “Your timing is impeccable. There’s a lot of you, aren’t there? Good. We might actually survive this.”

“I’m glad you’re still alive. What’s the quickest way out from here?” Trahearne asked.

Kekt and Dobbs looked at each other. “There’s a way out to the south. I theorize it will have fewer Risen compared to the direction you just came from.”

“Perfect,” Annhilda said. “I’ll take point. Keep together and stay on your guard.”

But the way out was blocked by a wall of strong bones. They’d blasted through bones like them before, with heavy magic, but they did not have that here…

Everyone began to talk at once. “Where did this come from?” demanded Dobbs. “This was supposed to be our way out!”

Agent Zrii’s voice echoed from the shadows. “The Orrians funneled us here. They’ve shown disturbingly advanced tactics ever since we arrived.”

“I knew it,” muttered the female Asura. “I’m going to die here and Dobbs is going to write it up as ‘acceptable losses’.” One of the other Asura began to wail to himself.

“Pipe down,” Annhilda said sharply. “Let’s plan our next move.”

The Charr researcher on the team had been inspecting the bone wall, with his salamander drake pet beside him. “Even Amphebe’s breath after a bushel of garlic couldn’t melt through that.”

“I’ve seen Orrians swarm, and I’ve seen them lurk, but I’ve never seen them set traps like this,” Crusader Afanen said. “Are they capable of tactical thinking like that?”

“Oh yes,” Trahearne said, his voice dark and deep. “I’ve seen them do exquisitely horrible things.” Everyone looked at him. “What is it?”

Caoilfhionn laughed, despite the situation. “Trahearne, you’re my very dear friend, but when you say things like that, surely you understand why some call you ‘creepy’. Sometimes.” Maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so harsh on that one Lionguard… no! Trahearne might have a creepy side, but it was hardly the whole of who he was. And when his voice got low like that… He felt a shiver run down his spine, and it wasn’t with horror.

Trahearne’s luminescence pulsed in the darkness of the cave. “Er… well… be that as it may, if the Priory team found the artifact I suspect they found, it all makes sense.”

“We were looking for a dwarven tome,” said Kekt, patting his satchel. “Why would Zhaitan care so much about an ancient book of lore?”

“I believe it contains information about the last time the dragons rose. Its very existence proves they can be beaten back. Our enemy wants to keep that information from us.” Trahearne looked around, at them all, at the bones. “And if they fall upon us here, they could wipe out most of the Pact’s leadership.”

“So what do we do?” Annhilda said. “They’re coming quickly.”

“We may be trapped, but I can summon the reinforcements we need to fight our way out,” Trahearne said, his eyes glinting. “This will require no small effort. Buy me some time to prepare.”

“You got it,” Annhilda said. “Hope’s Legacy! Let’s go! Researchers and mages in the back!”

“They won’t get to you,” Caoilfhionn said to Trahearne. “Take your time and do what you need to.”

Trahearne nodded and lifted his hand, letting his eyes half-close in concentration. Caoilfhionn turned away to face the oncoming horde.

Anhilda flung up a magical wall to block the spittle from the incoming grumbs, and Damara released arrows through it. Rhyoll’s rifle went off, again and again, deafening in the enclosed space, turning grubs into exploded balloons of pus and guts, backed by his hearty guffaws. Caoilfhionn sprang forward at Annhilda’s shoulder, wrapping a cluster of grubs in a ring of fire. A group of larger, more humanoid zombies stumbled through the flames, unflinching, but he whipped another fire spell at one, Phiadi ripped the life-energy from another, and Annhilda slashed a third in two and the bodies fell to the floor on top of several burning grubs.

Trahearne gave a shout, and bodies erupted from the floor of the cave – big, hulking minions, as big as a Norn, dwarfing him, great incorporeal spirits clustering about him. And yet he stood so straight and commanding, even with that mystical, concentrating look on his face, there was no question – they obeyed him and him alone. Caoilfhionn’s breath was stolen to see the glint of his yellow eyes; a brief glow, residual from casting such a mighty spell, that spoke to the power hidden in him. Creepy? Yes. Completely captivating and alluring? Also yes.

“Follow me!” Trahearne cried, and his minions fells upon the remaining undead viciously, clearing the way for them.

“This Trahearne’s got some real power, doesn’t he?” said the Charr scholar. “Can’t wait to see him go all-out.”

Caoilfhionn beamed at him. “That makes all of us, I think.”

“Aye,” said the Asura woman. “I’m done with Dobbs, but Trahearne? Him, I’d follow.”

“There!” Annhilda cried. “There’s the entrance! Take heart!”

Caoilfhionn came into the murky, undead-tainted light of day, into the icy, misty rain, and gasped. A tall wraith awaited them, surrounded by ranks of undead that equaled Trahearne’s minions in size – and outnumbered them. They did not attack, though a low growl went through them all, and a clattering of claws.

The wraith spread his hands and spoke in a bone-rattlingly deep voice. “Ha! Welcome Sylvari. Lured you here, trapped you here. Now you die here. The elements bow before me and I bow before Zhaitan. He wills your death. He shall have it.”

Trahearne stared up at the wraith, unimpressed and unafraid. “I was born to undo your master’s work.” He lifted Caladbolg high. “If I must kill you to achieve that, then you shall die here.”

The rain poured down; lightning cracked somewhere nearby with a blinding flash and a report that echoed endlessly between the mountains, and the two sides lunged at each other. Caoilfhionn flew on wings of instinct, going for the nearest abomination to Trahearne, his daggers ripping through flesh and leaving lightning in their wake, ducking smoothly under the swing of its huge arm. Air and water flowed around him, and he flowed through the melée, hardly pausing for an instant. The wind rushed through his leaves and the rain streamed down his face and trailed his fingertips.

The wraith lifted his hands, hurling spell after spell at Trahearne, who stood his ground magnificently, wielding Caladbolg with power and grace. He caught a flash of bared teeth as the greatsword whirled, cleaving the wraith’s dark spells asunder. Caoilfhionn felt the surging of magic through the air, a tingling feeling that nearly knocked him back with the sheer force of the power involved. The wraith moved forward, increasing the intensity of his attacks. Trahearne took a single step back, and no further, holding fast as the creature loomed over him, Caladbolg blazing like the moon amid the rain and the magic.

The rest of them were holding back the abominations, just barely. Monsters fell about them, splashing into the mud with loud groans, but they kept coming. Trahearne’s own minions and spirits were falling, his concentration focussing ever more on the wraith, leaving the rest of the battle up to them. He would call if he needed help, surely…?

The wraith knocked Caladbolg to one side, hissing as its essence burned away from the touch, but the other arm reached out and grabbed Trahearne by the throat. “Have you now, Sylvari-”

An arrow struck the wraith in the eye and it dropped Trahearne, taking a step back with a howl. Caoilfhionn breathed again, but who had shot the arrow? Damara was beside him, opposite the direction it had come from, and that wasn’t one of her arrows…

In the shadows of the ruins and trees, almost unseen through the rain at this distance, was a tall slender figure. Tall even for a Norn, but he could not make the person’s features. They raised a greatbow nearly twice his height and loosed another arrow; an abomination near him thudded to the ground, its head pierced through. Lightning flashed, and Caoilfhionn gained an impression of white skin, long brown hair, and dark blue leather.

Trahearne nodded at the figure, once, then hefted Caladbolg and charged, making a great slash across the wraith’s body. Thunder crashed, and he couldn’t tell if it were the lightning or the strike of the sword. The wraith shrieked and dissipated, its essence coming undone, and all the abominations fell as one. Trahearne stood alone, so tall and commanding with the greatsword shimmering in his hands.

“Yal-” Trahearne began, turning to the figure, but it was already gone, disappearing into the mountain mist as if it had never been. “Thank you!”

“Who was that?” Crusader Afanen asked, shading her eyes from the rain with her hand, peering in the direction it had been. The intensity of the weather was letting up, now that the wraith was gone.

“Yaleiya,” Trahearne said, catching his breath. “She wanders these lands.”

“Wait,” Annhilda said. “ _The_ Yaleiya? I thought she was a myth.”

Trahearne shook his head with a little smile. “She’s no myth, though I’m not sure what she _is_. I met her long, long ago, here. Yet again she has saved my life.”

“Would she fight with us in Orr?” Agent Zrii said. “We could use a one-woman ballista.”

“I do not think so. She doesn’t like people, and seldom leaves these lands… No matter. The wraith is dead, the research team is alive, and we have the artifact.”

“Well done, Marshal Trahearne,” said the Charr scholar. “That Orrian ugly looked nigh unstoppable, but you did it.”

“The Pact did it,” Trahearne said graciously. “Our combined efforts made this happen. Just as we’ll defeat Zhaitan together. Hopefully, our chances of doing just that have been improved with the information contained inside this tome.”

“I can help you there!” Kekt said. “I’m fluent in ancient Dwarf. Get us out of here and I’ll translate the stuffing out of this tome.”

“Yes, he was the one who led me to my first mission with the Priory with his translations!” Caoilfhionn said.

“Excellent,” Trahearne said. “Let’s return to Concordia. Zrii, please take point.”

Caoilfhionn found himself walking back beside Trahearne. His heart was light as the rain washed over him. It would not stop until tomorrow at the earliest, maybe not even then. That was well enough; the rain was a necessary and beautiful part of the world. “I’m sorry I was late to aid you, but I’m glad the Yaleiya showed up.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Trahearne said. “She is there when she is there. It was good to see her again, if only for a moment.”

“What’s she like?”

“A person of few words… very few. Inscrutable. Unpredictable. Very pragmatic.”

“You know a lot of people, don’t you?” For all he was unpopular with the masses, he seemed to know _everyone_.

Trahearne quirked an awkward smile. “A product of my sordid youth… No, no, I jest. I’ve… traveled. A lot. For a long time. I haven’t spent my _whole_ life in old libraries or exploring Orr. I meet people. Sometimes, they meet me.”

“That’s wonderful. I like meeting people too!”

“I never said I liked it,” Trahearne muttered, but his widening smile gave him away.

Caoilfhionn laughed, then perked up. “Oh, hang on a moment.” He reached out without thinking, wiping a mud spatter from Trahearne’s cheek that hadn’t been washed away by the flowing rain.

“Er.” Magenta pulsed strongly through Trahearne’s leaves and face. “Caoilfhionn?”

“Ahh!” The impropriety of what he’d just done sank in and he jumped back, snatching his hand away; his own luminescence flaring wildly. “S-sorry! W-well, anyway, now we’ve achieved victory again!”

“Victory indeed,” Trahearne said, recovering himself smoothly. “The first of many, with allies like you beside me. But this is just the first step in a long, perilous journey. From here on, things will get more difficult.”

“The difficulties from Zhaitan, probably,” Caoilfhionn said. “But I hope this shows the others that you’re the one to lead the Pact. So fewer difficulties there. Right?” He smiled hopefully.

“There’s nothing like the man in charge risking his own life to instill trust, is there?” Trahearne said dryly. “No, it went well. I don’t think it’s my strong suit. But thank you for standing by me. With you there, I know I can accomplish what I need to.”


	18. The Second Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was fun to figure out how the different choices of mission, both for the level 70 quest split and the level 80 quest split, work at the same time!

18: The Second Loss

Caoilfhionn woke early in the morning, as he usually did, and found that for once, he was not alone. Annhilda had crawled, bleary-eyed, out of her tent, and Damara was poking the fire out of slumber. Phiadi and Rhyoll were still abed, and they would be for a while yet. Caoilfhionn often found it difficult to keep his voice down sufficiently in the early morning out of courtesy to them.

Both women were dreadfully dishevelled; Annhilda's thick red hair was sticking out in all directions, falling over her face, and generally forming a forbidding red miasma of irritation about her. Damara's dark hair was softer, wispier, but no less unkempt at this hour. "G'morning."

"Good morning!" Caoilfhionn said. "You're up early today!"

Annhilda smirked. "D'mara said she wanted to help with my hair today. Figured she'd need some extra time."

Caoilfhionn lit up. "Ooh! Can I help too?"

"You don't even have hair, pup."

"That's exactly why I want to help." Caoilfhionn sat down crosslegged next to the fire eagerly. "Hair is fascinating, you know? You mammals might not have the diversity in head coverings that Sylvari do, but there's such variation in what you do have – we don't have anything like it. And you can change it so easily, the colour, the styling – my brother has pinecone scales, and he will always have pinecone scales, forever and ever. Hair is so flexible!"

"Someone's got a fetish," Damara said, putting the kettle on.

"A… what? No? I just want to help. And be curious. Come on, I have dextrous hands, I can braid."

"Do you, now," Damara said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"All right, you can give it a try," Annhilda said. "If it isn't up to my standards I'll just redo it later, no big deal." She got out a large brush and began taming the wild tangles out of her hair. Caoilfhionn winced at the harsh noises it generated, but Annhilda didn't seem to care.

After Caoilfhionn had finished making preparations for breakfast and put it on to boil, and after they'd all had a cup of tea, Annhilda had finally finished with her brush. "All right. You two sure you know what you're doing?"

"I know what I'm doing," Damara assured her. "I braid my hair every day too, remember? It keeps it out of the way _and_ it's cute!"

"I don't give a damn about 'cute'," Annhilda said. "I just need it out of the way." She was so tall, even sitting, that Damara could stand and not find it uncomfortable to reach her head.

"I think I know how you normally do it," Damara said. "Okay, Caoilfhionn, you take the other side and follow my lead."

Caoilfhionn leaned over to see what she was doing. "Oh, I think I understand. With the twine… like this?" Her hair was so thick, and somewhat stiffer than he'd anticipated, somehow both finer and coarser than he'd thought – it tangled around his fingers so easily, like a whole wilderness of tough, pliant grasses. His sisters' leaves, even Eithne's, looked incredibly simple compared to this. He found it difficult to concentrate on what he was doing; he just wanted to keep touching it, to stroke it, run his fingers through it. Fascinating. She would probably disapprove very strongly, and he was still a little in awe of her, even now, so he kept his mind on his task.

"You're not exactly instilling me with confidence," Annhilda said, rolling her eyes towards them without moving her head. "You can do it tighter than that, Caoilfhionn, it's not that sensitive."

"Ah, sorry. You don't feel through your hair?" That explained a few things, and he became more confident in his handling, secure that he wouldn't hurt her if he was _slightly_ less gentle.

"No, just the roots. You feel through your leaves?"

"Yes, it's like an extension of our skin."

"So that one time I saw you trimming your leaves-" Damara began with an expression of horror.

"It stings a bit, but it's worth it," Caoilfhionn said, laughing at her reaction. "What, do not you have cultural practices that cause pain in pursuit of beauty? What about these tattoos, for instance?"

"Excuse you, those tattoos have _meanings_ ," Annhilda said. "It's not just about looking badass. Which they also do, though that's not the point."

"Well, it's important for our fearless leader to look her best," Damara teased her. "After all, it's the last thing most of our enemies will see."

Annhilda snorted. "You know what I like to hear."

"And thus we, your handmaidens, shall attend to you," Damara said theatrically, and was unable to dodge a swipe from Annhilda. "Whoops! Careful!"

Annhilda was laughing. "A Norn does not need _handmaidens_. Though I'm sure some of the men wouldn't object if a pretty girl was around to braid their beards…"

"What's all the giggling about?" complained a groggy voice, and Phiadi crawled out of her little tent. "You guys having a girly hair party?"

"It's _not_ girly," Annhilda protested fiercely.

"And I'm not a girl?" Caoilfhionn said.

"Or have hair," Phiadi said. She grabbed Annhilda's brush, swished it through her white-pink chin-length bob a few times, and tossed her head – her hair was instantly perfect. "Done."

"Lucky you," Damara said. "Okay, how do you normally tie this off, Annhilda?"

Annhilda showed them. "I guess we should help with yours now, too."

"No, Caoilfhionn's first!" Damara said, grinning. "You heard him, he's more vain than the rest of us put together."

"You can try," Caoilfhionn said, but to no one's surprise, she didn't get far in braiding his rather short leaves, though the endeavour caused both of them to giggle madly.

Rhyoll rolled out of his tent. "Hair? Who cares? As long as it's not on fire?"

"Spoilsport," Damara said, perfectly happy to have Annhilda and Caoilfhionn do up her braids. "Breakfast should be ready any minute, don't forget to wash up, Mr. Sleepyhead."

* * *

Caoilfhionn and Damara were on their first official mission together, aiding an Asura engineer. They met at the United Arcanist Lab in the south of Sparkfly Fen. Demolitionist Tonn was a peppy young man who seemed much more friendly and down-to-earth than many Asura Caoilfhionn had met, Phiadi and Wegaff included. "Hey, Commander! Over here! Time to make some noise!"

"Demolitionist Tonn?" Damara asked. "I'm, uh, Commander Damara Biros, and this is my friend Caoilfhionn. Teammate? Colleague?"

"Colleague sounds distinguished," Caoilfhionn said.

"Also known as the Orch-"

"Damara!"

Tonn laughed. "I've been looking forward to meeting you both. I told Trahearne I needed the big guns for this mission, and here you are."

"I've got the guns," Damara said. "Not sure about Caoilfhionn, though."

"Damara, you use a bow, and I use magic," Caoilfhionn objected. "Rhyoll's the one with the guns."

"No, it's slang," Damara explained. "Guns is slang for biceps." She flexed, causing the muscles to stand out on her upper arms. They were substantial, he had to admit.

He laughed. "In that case, you should have asked for Annhilda, Tonn."

"I just meant powerhouses, and you'll do very well," Tonn said cheerfully. "Welcome to the party! Like I always tell my wife, Ceera: any lump can hack bad guys to death, but it takes skill and style to turn them into craters and dust."

"Too bad Rhyoll decided to go with those Vigil types, he'd agree with you completely," Damara said. "So what are we lighting up today?"

"Our preliminary targets are three Orrian towers that are flooding the region with undead nasties. We can't hold this area until we stop the influx. I'll handle the explosives. Your job is to get me to the targets and keep the enemy off me while I plant the charges. Then we drop back, settle in, and enjoy the spectacle pyrotechnical."

"Sounds good to me!" Damara said. "Let's get moving!"

* * *

The three of them, Caoilfhionn, Damara, and Tonn, were on their biggest mission yet, destroying the flagship of Zhaitan's bone fleet. It _should_ have been simple. Easy, even.

"It's too bad this is our last mission together," Damara said as they assembled with their Pact escort, before they dove into the water to plant the charges. "Trahearne's calling us to Fort Trinity after this goes off."

"We sink the bone ship and cover ourselves in glory first though!" Tonn said. "But it's sad, I agree, we make a great team."

"I'm sure we'll work together again," Caoilfhionn said.

"Perhaps we'll meet your wife next!" Damara said. "Ceera, right?"

"That's her! Tell her how great I've been, all right?"

"Will do," Caoilfhionn said, and dove gracefully into the sea. Damara was behind him with her shark, Erik, swimming up from the depths to meet her.

The sea here was dark and murky, and filled with enemies prowling. Their saving grace was that undead had terrible eyesight; even Caoilfhionn's vibrant dark purple clothes blended in to the shadows of the sea, letting them pass by without detection. A pair of sharks caught on to them, but Caoilfhionn froze them and Damara speared them, and they silently floated away.

The rest of the demolition placements went also in silence; Tonn was delicate as he attached the bomb to the bone ship's hull, mindful of how sound traveled through water, and they slipped out as carefully as they'd come in.

Tonn was giggling and bouncing as they emerged again onto the little island where their Pact squad was protecting the detonator. "Hold onto your ears, everyone. This is going to be my _masterpiece-_ Wait, something's wrong." Tonn checked the detonator, fiddled with it, tapped it. "Argh, it's showing red. The connections were perfect! Something must be knocked out of position."

"I guess you can't fix it from here, can you?" Damara said. "Well, it'll be twice as dangerous, but we have no choice but to sneak back out-"

"Sir!" cried Crusader Gilley to Damara. "We have krait inbound. Closing fast, and they look like they mean business." She pointed north to where many dark, sinuous shapes could be glimpsed below the waves.

"All right." Tonn squared his shoulders and turned to Damara. "I'll reset the charges on the ship, you keep the krait off the detonator."

"I'll go with you, then," Caoilfhionn said. "I don't like you going alone. Between the krait and the sharks…"

Tonn snorted. "I can handle the cartilaginous cretins that are still out there, and the krait are focused on this position. They won't even notice me. But the detonator has to be protected. And the ship _has_ to go down."

"Sure, but we've got all these Pact forces," Damara said. "I've got things covered. Take Caoilfhionn."

"Oh, all right," Tonn said. "Come on, Caoilfhionn, time's a-wasting!"

Despite the urgency of the situation, they still had to swim as carefully and quietly as before. Caoilfhionn felt the pressure mounting in his chest, the fear that they would not be on time. He enjoyed daring infiltrations but even he knew that doing them twice meant greater chance for something to go wrong. And it… felt different, somehow, in this context, than it had when he was younger and making sport of the Nightmare Court. Was he growing up? Or was it just that this wasn't his own initiative, that his part was a smaller piece of a larger war machine, that so many others were relying on him?

He begrudged every undead who got in their way, but despite his impatience, they made it back to the bone flagship without incident. He kept watch for Tonn as the Asura swam to his bomb, popping the cover off to examine the insides.

It was only a moment before Tonn grabbed his arm. "It's fixed! Go, go, go! Gotta get clear!"

Relief flooded him. They'd done it at last, and they hadn't been swarmed by the undead. "I'm with you!"

A hand grabbed his ankle and he twisted to see a big formerly-Norn undead trying to drag him down. Caoilfhionn writhed and slashed, element of Air freeing him and tearing his enemy away. Not now! He swam on as quickly as he could.

Suddenly the world collapsed around him. An immense sound blasted his sensitive ears, and all the air in his lungs was knocked from him by a crushing shockwave. For several minutes he hung, stunned, in the water, unable to tell which way was up or down, just clinging to the air coming in through his aquabreather, trying to get his lungs working again. His ears were ringing and for a moment he wondered if he'd ever hear again.

They'd done it! …And it had almost been disastrous for him, at least. It was a good thing his shield of Air had still been up when the bomb went off. He was recovering, though his head was still woozy, and he shook himself – which didn't help – and looked around. "Tonn? Tonn!" He swam to the surface, to see if Tonn were up there. "Tonn!" The bone ship was still collapsing, sinking quickly, raining bits of bone into the water around him.

An uneasy feeling was taking hold in his belly. It was difficult to find anything in the water unless he already knew exactly where it was…

"Caoilfhionn!" Damara called to him, her voice faint in the distance and the ringing in his ears, yet not so faint as it should be. She'd come to meet him, worried, no doubt. "What's taking so long? You should have been back by now!"

"I can't find Tonn!" he called anxiously. "Help me look for him!" Bodies were popping up, but as far as he could see, they were all of undead.

"I see something!" shouted Crusader Gilley. "Over here! …By the Gods, it's Tonn! He's… he's dead."

"No!" Caoilfhionn exclaimed, swimming over as fast as he could. "He can't… I was right there…"

"I was sure he signaled us," Damara said, as he caught up, the three of them treading water around a small, sad body floating face-down between the waves. "Was the explosion bigger than he expected?"

"We had the go-ahead signal," Crusader Gilley said. "I saw it. You saw it, Damara, you did. By the gods, why would he sacrifice himself like that?"

"I don't know," Caoilfhionn whispered. "I don't know what happened. One moment he was beside me, and then next moment we were attacked, and then there was the explosion…"

"This is a huge loss for the Pact," Crusader Gilley said, gathering up the body and beginning to swim back to shore. "Tonn was the best demolitionist we had."

"And we'll have to tell his wife," Damara said.

"By the Tree." Caoilfhionn gulped back tears. "She's waiting to hear from him."

"I'll tell her," Damara said. "I was the commanding officer. It's my responsibility." Even through the water, he could feel her fear. "Melandru guide me…"

"I'll do it," he said. "I was with him up until the last moment."

"We'll do it together," Damara said.

"I don't envy you," Crusader Gilley said. "Tell her he died a hero. It won't soften the news, but it might help in the long run."


	19. Comfort

19: Comfort

Caoilfhionn still had not been to Fort Trinity in the month since the Pact had formally come together, and while he was still overcome by Tonn's death and the responsibility that weighed so heavily on him, he had high anticipation for seeing it for the first time. At least, until the morning of the next day when he came through the trees to the sandy jungle shore and saw it, a hulking monstrosity of steel, powered by floating Asuran cube generators and twined about with strange, modified Sylvari vines. It was ugly.

It didn't matter what it looked like. A Pact soldier pointed Damara and him in the correct direction, and they entered to find Trahearne arguing with some Priory soldiers about Asura gates, but he dismissed them as Damara and Caoilfhionn walked up with somber faces. "Greetings, Damara, Caoilfhionn. I was sorry to hear about Tonn. He was a huge asset, and much admired."

"Thank you, sir," Damara said. "The mission was a success, but that's small comfort to his loved ones… or us. We're… still arguing over who takes responsibility."

Trahearne looked back and forth between them. "As long as you remember that that is what it is: responsibility. Not blame."

"Yes, sir," Damara said. Caoilfhionn took a deep breath and clenched his hands. He didn't trust himself to speak right now, or else he'd start crying. He couldn't cry until after he'd talked to Ceera. His head hurt enough without crying on top of it. And his stomach. And his chest.

Trahearne took a second, closer look at him. "Are you well?"

"He was on the edge of the explosion," Damara said.

"I'm fine," Caoilfhionn said in a tiny voice. "I've been healing myself since it happened. I just need to keep working right now."

Trahearne frowned, and Caoilfhionn felt worse. "You should get a second opinion on that. Injuries from explosions are not like those from a blade."

"I will," Caoilfhionn promised. "In a bit. After we've told her."

"All right."

Damara gestured at the high steel walls about them. "This place is certainly formidable, and it looks incredibly strong."

Trahearne grimaced. "It had better be. We've seen a huge increase in undead activity while we've been establishing our defenses. I believe a major attack is imminent. All the signs are there: our outermost defenses have suffered a series of probing attacks, and we've lost several long-range scouts. Annhilda recovered a powerful magical orb from the krait, and we still have Tonn's best explosives, but there have been some disturbing… glitches in communication. Fort Trinity is not yet secure. Worst of all, our Asura gates are not functioning, and nobody can tell me why."

"What can we do to help?" Caoilfhionn asked.

Trahearne seemed to relax, almost imperceptibly; perhaps he had been waiting for him to say that. "Could the two of you double-check our defenses at the lumber camp? They've lost of a lot of workers, and we need that timber. I need to talk to Phiadi and Rhyoll about a possible saboteur, but I will send Annhilda with you."

"Got it," Damara said. "Hi, Annhilda."

"You look like you had a rough time too," Annhilda said, as they headed back out of the gate.

"We lost our partner, Tonn," Damara explained. "We're still not sure what happened… we think maybe the blast hit him, but surely he was too good of a demolitionist for a mistake like that?"

"It's my fault," Caoilfhionn said mournfully. "I took my eyes off him at the worst moment."

Annhilda put a hand solidly on the top of his head. "Now listen here, pup. You can't watch everyone at every second. You did your best to protect him, I know you did. You never do things by halves. So it is not your _fault_ that he died."

"Thank you," Damara said to her. "I've been trying to tell him that, but I didn't know the words. But you said your mission was also difficult?"

Annhilda growled. "I seized some kind of magical orb from the krait that should help defend us against the undead. They've been working on it since I got in last night. But in exchange, the krait captured Apatia, and that is _unacceptable_. I will tear them apart to rescue her, just as soon as we're done here. I would have done it already, except I had to deliver the orb and now Trahearne wants me to stick around just a bit longer in case this big attack materializes. Which… is important."

"Well, we're here now, so either we can hold things down while you deal with it, or maybe we can even go with you if the opportunity arises," Damara said. "I'm sure with the rest of Hope's Legacy here, and a whole army, your absence won't make or break our survival."

"Well, most of the army isn't here yet," Annhilda said. "That's why Trahearne's so worried. Did you not get briefed?"

"No, we literally just got here. What's up?"

"We've really only got a token force protecting the construction crews. The rest of the Orders' manpower has been assembling at their respective headquarters, to avoid lengthy and costly and noisy treks over land. As soon as the Asura gates are running, we'll be fine… but right now we need every body that breathes. And we're losing too many gatherers and builders, too…"

"And he said the gates aren't working, and something about a saboteur?" Caoilfhionn said. "I'm not great with Asura tech, but I know the flow of magic, perhaps I can take a look – what's going on up there?"

There was sharp movement in the trees ahead, the flash of swords and axes, and the report of pistols. A Priory scholar came stumbling down the path towards them, covered in mud and blood. "We're under… attack- grah!" A zombie had run her down, stabbing her from behind before Damara could loose an arrow.

"Raven's wings!" Annhilda cried. "Hurry!"

They dashed to the camp, but it was already clear they were losing the battle. The undead were swarming, and many of them were huge, lumbering brutes, that Caoilfhionn remembered vividly from when he'd visited Orr in the Dream. "To me!" Annhilda cried, blinking into the middle of camp and lifting her sword to catch the dimming light of the sun. "Rally to me! We must win back to Fort Trinity together!"

"Commander!" gasped a chorus of voices, relieved Humans, gruff Charr, determined Sylvari.

"Caoilfhionn, you Charr, clear us a path towards the fort! Don't get surrounded!" Annhilda gestured, and Caoilfhionn felt energy flood him. His body still hurt but if he just stayed in Water, he could stay up and kill undead at the same time. It would be slower and less satisfying, but he wasn't _completely_ reckless despite being emotionally compromised. He couldn't die here.

But he was glad Annhilda was there to take leadership, that he could follow her as she led the way through the gap he cleared with the Charr soldiers; Damara took a rear position, picking off any undead who dared show its head to her arrows. It seemed so much longer to get back, but there was the great round gate before them, and the cleared open ground between the fort and the jungle – and more undead sprouting around them, gaining on them. The sickening miasma of death was descending around them, choking him with its stench, darkening the sky with a grim fog.

Trahearne was in the gate, watching for them. "Come, get in, before the undead arrive!" As the three of them and their followers sprinted past the portal, he gestured to the soldiers next to him. "Seal the gate!" Only Caoilfhionn heard him say softly to himself: "Mother, forgive me…"

"Where next?" Annhilda said.

"The docks," Trahearne said, pointing. "That attack I feared? It's here. This is it."

"So I see," Annhilda said. "Good thing you asked me to stay, then. Come on, Damara, Caoilfhionn!"

Undead were surging from the water, up the ramps into the base; Caoilfhionn caught a glimpse of Rhyoll setting up turrets coolly while Phiadi flung her minions forward, foregoing her axe momentarily in favour of her scythe-shaped staff. Bone ships emerged from the noxious mist, sailing steadily closer and hurling more undead into their midst.

Trahearne was still calling orders. "Get those cannons firing! Secure _all_ the gates except the inner courtyard! Yes, the submarine gate as well!"

Caoilfhionn forced his aching body to sprint forward into the thick of things, his head still spinning from the noxious fumes and the headache he'd had since the explosion, the cool balm of his Water spells just enough to keep him focused on the enemy. He found himself near Phiadi, and saw that as fast as her minions died, she pulled more from the gruesome remains of the fallen enemy undead, repurposing their bones and what remained of their flesh into her own twisted servants. "You won't be defeated anytime soon, I see."

She cackled. "Never waste a corpse! Especially one that's already been used two or three times – it's natural recycling!"

"Mother preserve us," gasped a Sylvari nearby. "What's that in the sky?"

There was a roar from overhead, and he looked up from facing the seething hordes to see the leathery bat-wings of a dragon soar by, spitting poison onto the docks. Trahearne shouted to the cannons, and finally they began to boom or zap into the sky, Charr and Asura engineering raining fiery death upon their flying enemies. This fortress would not suffer the same blow as Claw Island had.

They were holding their own against the invaders from the sea, and they'd even taken out several of the besieging bone ships. Caoilfhionn was beginning to hold hopes that they would finish this quickly when the dragon crossed over the courtyard again, spitting poison, melting or exploding most of the cannons. The engineers yelled as they scattered to safety. "No cannons! The cannons are down!"

A huge zombie landed near Caoilfhionn with a thud that sent him flying, tumbling halfway across the yard. He scrambled up again as quickly as he could, but already the undead were pushing forward, rushing over everything, and the thin line of the Pact was crumbling.

"Withdraw to the centre!" Trahearne commanded. "We'll hold there!" He waved everyone through the inner gate, waiting for as many of the soldiers to pass through as he could, before he again gave the command to seal the gate. But no sooner had the gate been closed, trapping the oncoming zombies and a few remaining unlucky Pact soldiers outside, when the ground of the courtyard quivered and a new force of undead clawed their way out to greet them. In only moments the inner courtyard was as confused a melée as the docks had been.

"Sometime, I'd like to fight an enemy that doesn't steal the ground from beneath our feet," Rhyoll complained.

"Let me steal it from under theirs," Phiadi said absently, waving her staff wildly, planting curses every which way.

There erupted a shout from the north side of the yard. "The enemy has the orb! They're heading for the Asura gates! Somebody stop them!"

"What did you say?" Annhilda demanded, dashing in that direction without waiting for the rest of the guild to catch up.

A gasping Charr woman in Whispers robes pointed towards the Asura gates. "They had the orb! They looked like Pact soldiers, but then they changed. By the time I realized they were using illusions, it was too late."

Phiadi screamed an obscenity at the top of her lungs and took off sprinting. A Vigil Asura nearby shook his head at the piercing noise, and at her description of what she was going to do with the Eternal Alchemy and the thieves' personages, but Phiadi was away and giving orders. "You, form a perimeter! Keep the undead off us while we get through the door! You, stand with us so we can _crush those impudent idiots_ when the door opens!"

"If they get the gates working, we'll lose them and the orb," said the Whispers agent. "But we need explosives to get through this door, ma'am."

Caoilfhionn's eye had already fallen on some familiar packages nearby, and he picked one up and held it high. "Here! Tonn made these. I recognize his work. Damara!"

"Got it!" Damara caught it as he tossed it, planting it on the gate and then dodging back as Annhilda threw up a barrier to protect them from the blast. The gate gave way with a groan, and they were treated to the sight of several belligerent-looking people – well, they still wore Vigil armour, to his eyes. A Charr woman held a smooth, azure-blue orb, and she was at the back, next to the central Asura gate as another of her comrades fiddled with it. "Your Pact is finished. Your orb, your fortress, and your Asura gates belong to us!"

"We'll see about that!" Annhilda said, and blinked forward into the traitors' defensive line with a shout.

"We can't lose the orb now!" yelled the Charr mesmer, edging away from Annhilda's rage. "Keep them away from me!"

"Seems a futile endeavour," Trahearne commented in an aside to Caoilfhionn, who chuckled tightly and splashed healing Water about on his companions. Caladbolg was not idle, but Trahearne was facing outward, joining the soldiers who prevented the undead from getting at the orb themselves.

The Charr mesmer screamed and transformed into a strange wraith. "You will not-!"

An arrow from Damara felled the wraith. "Hmph. Don't have to be near you to take you down."

"The orb!" cried Annhilda, seizing it. "What do we do with it?"

"The central pillar!" Trahearne said, pointing. "We prepared a seat for it!"

Behind her, the Asura gates flickered from red to purple, then blinked and began disgorging Pact soldiers from all three, but Annhilda was not stopping now, sprinting with her long legs for the point which Trahearne had pointed out to her. The reinforcements charged the zombies, and Caoilfhionn and the others with them.

As Annhilda settled the orb into its Asuran-made housing, the antenna above it lit up in blue, and the beams of energy between each of the fortress's towers brightened to a powerful glow. The miasma lifted, as if pushed back by a powerful but unfelt gust of air, and the undead ceased to crawl from the ground. Caoilfhionn heard Carys cheering somewhere near him, a cheer that many joined in.

"Forward!" Trahearne shouted. "Open the gate to the docks and take them back!"

Now they charged, back down the ramp; many of the Sylvari staying at the top with their strange long rifles and firing at anything that looked like it ought to be dead. Caoilfhionn was right with Phiadi, and the two of them wove their magics together, death and fire, demolishing a great hulking brute before it could charge into them. There was a screech above them, and looking up, he saw that the dragon was retreating, flying back to the distant land across the strait. The power of the orb? He hoped so. He wondered what it was. If even Annhilda didn't know, it was mysterious indeed.

It was not long before anything that rotted ceased moving, and they could begin the painful process of determining which of those un-decomposed bodies were still living… and which would need to be buried. Everyone helped, even Trahearne himself.

When those who could be saved were saved, they all assembled in the inner courtyard. Trahearne appeared on the orb platform above them all, lifting his hand for attention. "For more than two hundred years, Orr has been lost. Despoiled, corrupted, ruined by the presence of a dragon; an infection, withering the heart of Tyria." He gestured to the fortress around them. "Fort Trinity symbolizes our determination. It stands as a mark of our unity against the dragons. From here, we will prevail. We will fight to rend the darkness with steel and flame, always looking toward the dawn. Our victory at Fort Trinity will show the world that we can strike against the dragons. When we are ready, we will prove that even in the sanctum of Orr, they are not untouchable. We can reach the dragon's lair in the heart of Orr! We can assault Arah! We can destroy Zhaitan before the dragon's infection claims us all. This battle is over. We can triumph! But the war has just begun."

The army cheered him, enthusiastically, as he left the platform, giving orders to Doern, Efut, and Wynnet, and then he made his way over to where Hope's Legacy was waiting. In their presence, he allowed himself to look relieved – but the determination from his speech was still there. "I'm glad we have the dragon's attention. I want Zhaitan to know the names and faces of those who will defeat it."

"From the size of the assault force it sent here, I'd say the dragon has taken notice, sir," Annhilda said. "But we have other issues at hand."

"Yes," Trahearne said slowly. "I think Lionguard Apatia is our first priority. Phiadi, Rhyoll, we will have to confront Syska tomorrow."

"Ugh, fine," Phiadi said. "That'll give me time to charge up some of my _best_ curses for her…"

Rhyoll nodded. "I can be a screw-up for one more day. Let's get Apatia back."

"Do you need us, sir?" Damara asked. "I'd rather not put off… you know."

Trahearne nodded. "Of course. I had Tonn's personal effects sent here. I'll have them delivered to you. There was a locket that looked important. I'm sure his wife would appreciate its return."

"I… wonder how she will take it," Caoilfhionn said softly.

Trahearne put a hand on his shoulder, making him look at him. "You have to make her understand Tonn's sacrifice. He was willing to give his life to defeat Zhaitan. We all have to be, or the Pact will never stop the dragons."

"I know." Caoilfhionn nodded slowly. "I'll try."

* * *

They found Ceera busy among the wounded at the Squall Cusps to the south. She hardly looked up as they approached.

When the healer seemed to have a brief moment, wiping her hands on a towel, Damara took the lead. "Ceera… I'm here with bad news about Tonn."

Ceera looked up sharply. "What news? Who are you? What's happened?"

Damara swallowed. "I'm Commander Damara Biros, and this is my friend Caoilfhionn. I was with Tonn on a demolition mission. He… he did not survive."

Ceera gasped and her already-large blue eyes grew even larger with horror and grief. She shook her head. "Tonn's… gone? That can't be. He promised me we'd both live through this. What happened? Tell me how he died!"

Caoilfhionn braced himself and spoke. "We rigged an Orrian bone ship to blow, but the explosives wouldn't go off. Tonn and I went back to fix them. I… I don't know what happened then. We were separated. But he saved the mission." He couldn't bear to have that accusing stare boring into his eyes and lowered his gaze to the ground, trying not to let grief overwhelm him.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Ceera demanded, her face twisting. "The war can go on without Tonn, but I can't. How could you let this happen?" Tears rolled from her eyes – until abruptly she straightened with fury. "You murdered my husband, you and your Pact. Get away from me. Just get away!" She turned and ran, through the south gate of the camp.

"Ceera!" Damara cried, but Caoilfhionn was rooted to the spot. Her reaction was entirely justified… if he hadn't killed Tonn himself, he might as well have, with his inattention. What sort of Valiant was he to let his teammate, his companion die like that? To bring such grief to his lover was perhaps even worse. She was right to want him away from her, he would not follow- "Come back, it's dangerous out there!" Damara took off running after her.

Ceera screeched from where she was in the distance. "No! Get away from me, you murderers. Tonn! I'll find you, I swear it."

Damara would have stopped, but suddenly Ceera's cries changed tone, galvanizing even Caoilfhionn into action. "Ahh! No! Somebody, anybody! Help!"

They ran, chasing the undead who were chasing Ceera, who ran into a cave and did not stop, not until she came out of the cave to a small jetty where there were yet more undead waiting for her.

"Hold on!" Caoilfhionn called, blazing forward as lightning, crashing into the undead that stood before her. Damara drew her sword instead of her bow and threw herself at the ones behind. They were not Zhaitan's best minions, slow and clumsy, and together they hacked them to pieces as quickly as they could.

When the last one had fallen, Caoilfhionn knelt before Ceera, unable to contain his grief fully. "I am sorry that I failed you – that I failed both of you. I… I don't have any words that could possibly help. I know no words _can_ help." He wiped his sleeve over his eyes, willing his voice to stay steady enough to continue. "All I know is that he loved you madly. You were all he talked about, you and the life he wanted to have with you."

"Life? What life!?" Ceera cried, and he wilted further at her strong emotions. "What do you know about him, or me? Just leave me alone."

"W-wait." He fumbled inside his coat. "Trahearne gave me this to give to you…"

"His mother's locket." She took it, turning it over in her hands. "He wanted me to have it. It was all he had when she died… and now it's all I have left to remember him."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. All he knew was what it was to love. To lose his love was a pain he could not imagine. And he would fight to his death to destroy the dragon, to prevent it from separating loved ones like that again. But telling her that seemed… useless.

"You saved my life," Ceera said coldly. "I think you for that, but I will never, ever forgive you for taking Tonn from me. Just leave. I'll find my own way back."

He picked himself up and left with Damara, and every step felt like lead.

* * *

Damara followed him closely back to the fort, and made him go see the healers there, who told him he needed to rest for a couple days and allow his body time to heal completely. Caoilfhionn fled to high on the outer wall of Fort Trinity the moment he got away from them, for now he could cry – could let himself sink into his misery, let it wash over him, and hopefully, as with Sieran, find the way out by going through. He underestimated Damara at finding him – or, more accurately, her hound's nose, but her well-meaning words did not help, and he soon sent her away.

He stayed there, as the sun sank, as the rescue party returned, and they did not sound cheerful either. Had today been a victory or not? Nothing seemed to be going right… and yet they'd survived, most of them, another day. Had crushed the dragon's attempt to destroy them, even. And yet.

Trahearne found him in the twilight. "Ahhh, sapling. Here you are again."

Caoilfhionn's tears had dwindled to quiet streams down his cheeks, and his grief was already tired. "Damara sent you, didn't she."

"She said I was the only one who can talk to you right now."

"For once… I don't want to talk," Caoilfhionn said. "But a hug would be nice."

Trahearne sat beside him with his back to the wall and pulled him into a close embrace in his lap. Caoilfhionn tucked his head under Trahearne's chin and rested, comfortably, listening to his breathing, breathing in his scent, still fresh and green and slightly bitter even after the day's exertions.

"Did you see the healers?"

"Yes. I'm supposed to rest for two or three days to allow my injuries to heal." Caoilfhionn swallowed and burst out: "How can I rest now?"

"You must," Trahearne said soothingly. "The risk is too great. We need you well. I need you well."

Caoilfhionn fell silent. Trahearne was right, of course, but his heart cried out against it.

"Ceera blames me," he said after a while. "Blames us all."

Trahearne breathed. "Do you blame yourself?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I just wish there was a way to fix it."

"I know," Trahearne said, his voice soft, and deep, and aching with sadness. "So many died today. Every decision I make, people die. It's almost unbearable sometimes. When we shut the gates, do you know how many were still out there in the jungle? I do, and I know how many never made it back. If they were still alive when the gates were shut, they would have had nowhere to hide…" His arms tightened around Caoilfhionn and – Caoilfhionn inhaled sharply as he felt a teardrop fall onto his leaves. "But… the gates had to be shut. I had to cut off their lives, to save the lives still in the fort."

"I know."

"This is war, and even in peaceful life, people die. Frequently. Even with all my knowledge, I cannot prevent that…"

Caoilfhionn pulled Trahearne a little closer; he wasn't the only one who needed comfort and support, and if he could give any of his own, he would. "The rescue mission didn't go well, did it."

"No. Apatia was already dead. Annhilda is dealing with her own grief and feelings of guilt. If we have even a moment tomorrow after dealing with our saboteur, I'm away to Hoelbrak with Annhilda to tell her family."

"Mm. I can't help with that, but perhaps I can help with the saboteur…"

"No, you must rest. I will find something for you to do that doesn't involve risking your life. Don't worry," he added dryly. "You'll be back at it soon enough."

"I won't let you down."

They sat in silence again for a while. At length, Trahearne spoke. "What do you think of the fort, by the way? I meant to ask you sooner, but… with everything…"

Caoilfhionn made a face, though Trahearne couldn't see it. "It's… not very romantic."

Trahearne snorted. "That sounds diplomatic. I agree with you, but what makes you say that?"

"The way you described it, I was sure it would be a ruined _stone_ castle, like Fort Cadence to the north."

"Ah. No. Well, not after the Charr got started. There are stone foundations underneath. But after seeing what happened to stone fortifications on Claw Island, it was determined that a different type of construction was necessary. I agree it's not very beautiful… but it will keep us safe. It already has."

"It has," Caoilfhionn said. "I… right now… I miss home."

"Do you want to take a leave of absence to visit the Grove?"

 _Yes_ , his heart whispered. "No. I'm stronger than that. I'm not leaving until this is done. Even if I must rest." Already he was ashamed of voicing his weakness.

"Thank you," Trahearne said softly, his voice deep enough to fall into, and Caoilfhionn nearly did. "I missed you. Your mission was important, but… I wished you were beside me."

"Don't send me so far away next time, then," Caoilfhionn said, trying to joke.

"No," Trahearne said, still grave. "I think I will not." He sighed and slackened his embrace. "Well. I'm tired. You're tired. I won't have you sleeping up here in the open. In fact, you should probably be in the infirmary."

Caoilfhionn considered pouting, but it wouldn't help – Trahearne would just insist more. "Very well. I will try to sleep, and I will see you… when you are not busy."

"Which may not be any time soon, but even a word or two would help keep my spirits up in between everything that's been going on."

"Mine too." Caoilfhionn stood and helped Trahearne up. "Thank you for taking care of me yet again."

"My pleasure," Trahearne said with a courtly bow. "Good night, Caoilfhionn."

"Good night, Trahearne."


	20. Strike Boldly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a very specific segment in this chapter based on my emotional reactions to [Seven Pillars of Wisdom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_Igr355iVQ) (Sabaton) and [Let There Be Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH0ewuSL4gs) (Aviators), both of which I'd just discovered. One gave me the feeling of how Caoilfhionn sees Trahearne during this time, the other gave me the feeling of how Trahearne sees himself.
> 
> Also don't mind Phiadi at the beginning there, she's just a conspiracy theorist lol

20: Strike Boldly

He gathered that the saboteur was dealt with the next day, and prevailed upon Phiadi to give him the whole story, after they had returned and Trahearne and Annhilda went to Hoelbrak. He was shocked to hear that the mesmer had impersonated Trahearne himself in an attempt to disrupt Pact operations! If he'd been there, he would have seen through it immediately, he was sure.

"…said he'd have me up on charges of insubordination…" Phiadi was rambling.

"And you believed him?" he asked indignantly.

Phiadi gave him an arch look. "Hel~ _lo_ , it's me! If I don't like my orders, I do what I want anyway! …Usually! It was only after he started being rude that I figured it out. Trahearne is probably not as strict as that imposter… or he might be, given time in his new position… but he's never _rude_. It would probably break him to be so uncouth or whatever."

"No, indeed. Well, at least you figured it out eventually."

"I did." She finished her story, and then pointed at the letter in his hands. "What's that?"

"A letter to Caithe. She has been… in low spirits. I decided to take today to write back to her again – although, it seems Destiny's Edge is slowly reconciling, one at a time! I think it's wonderful, if true."

Phiadi rolled her eyes. " _I_ think it's suspicious. _I_ don't think they had any real problems with each other, that they were just making it all up."

"You really think so?"

"I think Caithe put them up to it, in fact! She seems the sort to start a scheme like that."

Caoilfhionn was bewildered. "But what purpose would it serve? And don't you remember how they quarreled in Twilight Arbour?"

"Yes, well, I think it's an act. Think about it. They're each prominent citizens – heroes, even, you might say – within their own races, and we of Hope's Legacy are becoming prominent citizens within our own races. You think that's coincidence?"

"Umm…"

"They _deliberately_ left a vacuum to encourage our rise, mentored us separately while we remained within our own countries, quarreled with each other in front of us to warn us against quarreling like that, and now that we're doing all right, they're suddenly cooperating again?" Phiadi shook her head. "I'm not buying it."

Caoilfhionn unfolded one of the letters Caithe had sent him. She really did sound unhappy. _The world is cold, and quiet. The chill in my heart feels as though I stand at the heart of winter, even if I know it is not so. I feel truly alone… save for you. I hear that you have done well and struck a mighty blow against Zhaitan. I also hear that, along with Trahearne, you have at last begun the true battle – the invasion of Orr…_

_Why save the world, when everything in it is falling apart?_

"Well, you may think as you like," he said diplomatically. He'd written a passionate answer in response, trying to muster all his hope and resolve and love – of which he still had plenty of all three – trying to support her. She was alone, as she said; her friends did not listen to her, or had not until exceptionally recently. Trahearne had him and the rest of Hope's Legacy nearby to lean on, but who did Caithe really have? So he would do his part, as near as she would allow him. Caithe was a loner, even more than Trahearne. Still, he found it a little strange, upon reflection, that a near-newborn was supporting two Firstborn with beliefs that even he knew to be naive.

Phiadi shook a finger at him. "They say Logan and Rytlock managed to work together long enough to take down some Flame Charr leader jerk at the Citadel of Flame. They say Eir's recovered her old spark again, helping kodan in the north! Mark my words, they just put on a poorly-acted show for us, and now that we don't need it, they're just dropping the pretenses."

"Weren't you one of the ones who thought that Caithe and Eir should start a new guild, because of the difficulties with the old one?" Caoilfhionn asked skeptically.

"Well… that was then! This is after I've had some time to think about it. This is why I'm a genius. They can't hide anything from me."

He really didn't want to answer that one, because she sounded more deluded than genius. "Well, we could really use their help when we go to fight Zhaitan. They're the only ones here with experience in fighting an Elder Dragon."

"They'll be here," Phiadi said breezily. "Count on it. Hey, you! What are you doing, skulking around there? What's your clearance?"

She really kept the soldiers in line, Caoilfhionn considered. Better her than him, anyway.

* * *

The invasion began in earnest the next day. Sometimes under Trahearne's personal leadership, sometimes under the leadership of one of the commanders, the army of the Pact split into three taskforces, each to assault Orr from a different vantage. It was weary work, not aided by the weather – Trahearne commented that winter was a terrible time to be invading an island nation, even from the relatively sheltered northeast side. But they persevered, hunting down Zhaitan's lieutenants, destroying bone structures, clawing inch after inch away from the undead. And, what was more difficult, holding those inches after undead rose behind their lines and attacked their camps from all sides. Some of the Pact camps became no less fortified than Fort Trinity itself, bounded about by steel walls edged with Sylvari vines and Asuran lasers.

With Trahearne's canny leadership and existing knowledge of the place, with the Pale Reavers' experience, they had many victories and only a few defeats, though every loss was keenly felt. But after a while, Caoilfhionn was confident enough to go clambering about on the rocks and the ruins, eager to explore the land more fully himself, beginning to see – under the oil slicks, zombies, and general ruination – something of that beauty that he hoped to see fully after the dragon was gone. He never went too far from the others, but if there was a ridge to be climbed, he was going to climb it. Sometimes he went alone, sometimes he took Wegaff, who had also joined the Pact and while not thrilled about the hordes of undead, was happy to see him again. Sometimes new friends joined him, like a rambunctious Asura necromancer named Takko and a cryptic Human mesmer named Tharash.

Trahearne saw him at it one time, near Pagga's Post. "Caoilfhionn, what are you doing? Get down, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"He's fine," Damara said, and laughed. "He's like a goat, these days."

Trahearne's worry did not abate. "He does trip a lot. What if he should fall? From such a height?"

Caoilfhionn hopped down and joined them. "I don't trip anymore, though! It's funny you remember how clumsy I was when I was newly Awakened… I've learned to balance much better with all the combat I've seen since then. You need not fear for my feet or my balance at all."

"Yes, now he's all graceful and agile, a proper Orchid Prince," Damara said, teasing.

" _Damara!_ " Caoilfhionn was certain his luminescent blush could be seen from the Charr copters, even though it was broad daylight – or as much as it ever was under the heavy clouds the dragon maintained. He was reconciled to her use of it among Hope's Legacy, but not in front of _Trahearne_ of all people! Anyone else but Trahearne! Although anyone else might start a rumour that Trahearne might hear but now he himself already knew-!

Trahearne started. "Orchid… Prince?"

"Sorry," Damara said, and shrugged. "I forgot he didn't know about it."

Caoilfhionn buried his face in his hands. "A nickname among my siblings and my guildmates. A… well, pay it no mind. Please. I beg you."

When he dared to look up, he saw Trahearne was faintly smiling. "It suits you. Whoever chose it for you chose well. Though if it bothers you that greatly to have it said aloud, I shall forebear."

They were on a mission with the Pale Reavers, the all-Sylvari unit led by Tegwen. Caoilfhionn had recognized several faces he knew added to their numbers, not least of which was Mabbran, Phiadi's former partner.

Phiadi, of course, had attached herself to the dour Sylvari and chattered his ear off with all she had accomplished since whenever they had last met; he answered with nods and grunts – until they were attacked, and successfully held the outpost. Afterwards, they ventured out into the field together, and Caoilfhionn watched them with great curiosity as Mabbran squatted down next to a dead undead body and began ripping it apart methodically. "Look at this piece of intestine, Phiadi. It's so distorted."

"It's beautiful," Phiadi said, holding out a jar to him. "That's a good sample, we'll take that one back to the lab."

Caoilfhionn made a face. "And they say _Trahearne_ is creepy."

Trahearne chuckled. "You say that as if I have not done similar research extensively. On as many types of Zhaitan's minions as I could acquire."

Caoilfhionn squinted at him. "Er… Yes, I suppose you have an appreciation for… Well, you did once say they were ' _exquisitely_ horrible'."

"They are," Trahearne said matter-of-factly. "Though… set your mind at ease. I may appreciate death and its study, but I value firstly hope, and love, and life, and peace." Was it his imagination, or were those yellow eyes anxious on him?

"My mind was never uneasy," Caoilfhionn said, his heart melting. "Anyone has but to speak with you to see what you say is true. Your fascination with Orr and the undead has never bothered me." The thing that bothered him was when others allowed these things to prejudice them against him… "Though I have no strong interest in them myself." He laughed a little.

"Ah. Well." Trahearne coughed. "Good, then."

"Marshal!" Tegwen was approaching them. "The area has been secured. What are your orders?"

"Fine work," Trahearne told her. "No new orders. Establish a watch, and scouts, and send the others to rest. Tomorrow we begin the offensive to take the Temple of Lyssa."

* * *

The Temple of Lyssa was a long, slogging march away, through terrain rife for ambushes and entrenched enemy positions. It took them weeks to advance, and losses on the first half of the march were severe. Trahearne spent too much time reading casualty lists, in Caoilfhionn's opinion, and the light in his eyes when he took to the field himself with Caladbolg was grim and steely. His arms were so thin, to be wielding such a heavy sword, Caoilfhionn thought, and he wondered how heavy a burden it was for him. Yet in battle he had become truly awe-inspiring, a shining presence in the thick of combat, a quick-witted, adaptable general who knew when to take charge and when to trust his subordinates, a strong, calm voice and unstoppable will. No matter how dark the clouds pressed on them, nor how furiously the undead raged against them, Trahearne was noble, beautiful, indomitable.

At least in front of others. "It never relents," Trahearne said to him privately one night, watching the flicker of watch torches from a small hill near their camp. "I always thought I would be helping someone else win this war, not leading it myself."

"You're doing marvellously," Caoilfhionn assured him. "The way you command is truly inspiring! You have come into your own over the last few months. You might not have expected it, but you are the only one I can imagine accomplishing all this." Trahearne was silent. "No one else could speak to the heart of every race as you can. Everyone has done their part but you have done the most, bringing all of Tyria to fight as one, and look how far we've come!"

Trahearne shook his head. "Perhaps we've done as well as could possibly be expected, but I do not know how long I can continue. I am so weak and small and… and young – I may be the oldest of all Sylvari, but I against a dragon… how can I hope to prevail?"

"Trahearne," Caoilfhionn said, his chest aching to reach out to him with more than words. "I don't know what it's like to stand where you stand… but I tell you this: you may bend, but you will never break, for you are not alone! I will always be beside you, and others are too."

Finally, Trahearne smiled, but it was only with his mouth, and Caoilfhionn wondered what he was thinking. If there was any way he could convince him to fully embrace the confidence he projected.

But Trahearne, had he known Caoilfhionn's thoughts, would not have even been concerned with that. The situation was about as good as it could be, and yet he was so keenly aware of how fragile it was. The whole operation was on a knife's edge – no, thinner than a knife's edge. He'd come too far to turn back and there were no second chances if he made any mistakes. All that was left was to push to the bitter end, no matter how bitter it might ultimately be, to deliver everything he had for one precision strike upon the dragon itself.

He was gambling _everything_ now – thousands of lives, no, the very world itself – for if they failed, who would halt the spread of the dragons' power? Who would save Lion's Arch next time? Already, the lists of those he lost were too long, and he had to find quiet time and meditate as often as he could, to keep his spirit strong. But though the fates of those who relied on him were heavy, he was most terrified of losing Hope's Legacy. Of losing Caoilfhionn. He was more popular than he'd ever been in his life before, and yet Caoilfhionn was still one of his only true friends and he loved him and he sent him into peril on a daily basis.

He was not afraid to go into battle now. No longer did the undead terrify him. Before he had only studied them. Now he slaughtered them, with Caladbolg weaving a deadly dance of purifying fire at the side of Hope's Legacy's devestating power. And no, he did not fear death. He had wondered, in the Dream the Pale Tree had given, how he could say such noble things with such confidence. Now he knew: it was his love for Caoilfhionn, the wellspring of his hope. He would face anything for his sake, die ten times over if it did the world any good, if it brought life back to Orr. While these goals burned inside him, he would not falter, though his body and soul protested, his will would not relent. So he fought on in mystical obdurance, every skill he'd ever honed over his twenty-five year life brought to its utmost. No matter what it cost, he would see this dragon slain.

* * *

The Temple of Lyssa was henceforth taken and Zhaitan's supply of minions greatly reduced, and a day afterwards Hope's Legacy and the other commanders were summoned to a secret meeting in a place called Augur's Grotto. Trahearne himself met them at the entrance, with a few Pact guard with him. "There you are! This way. Be cautious, we're still clearing out the last of the Orrians from here."

"This grotto is pretty defensible, isn't it?" Annhilda said, looking around as they came into the main cavern. "Only two ways in – this passage, and the seaway."

"Which makes it easier to be trapped in," Damara said. "Rabbits never have so few burrows…"

"I'm told star-crossed lovers used to meet here," Trahearne said, and Caoilfhionn stared, because _that_ was random. Could he possibly…? No, he was imagining things. Trahearne was just explaining what he knew about the place, which he did often with many places they'd been through.

"I think it will need a lot of sprucing up before anyone does _that_ anytime soon," Damara said, looking around at the bare stone and Pact barricades and tents.

Trahearne cleared his throat. "Indeed. Anyway, Doern, Wynnet, and Efut are already here, preparing the next front." He approached the higher, better-lit tent at the back of the cave. "So, what are your recommendations for our next move?"

"Full offensive, sir," Efut said immediately. "We've cut away Zhaitan's supports. Now's our chance to attack the main force, while they're still reeling."

Doern raised an eyebrow at her. "I agree, but a land-based offensive would hit where the dragon is strongest. If we attack from the sea, we'd do more damage."

"Marshal," Wynnet interjected, "we've lost contact with the squad investigating lost artifacts. I want to send in an extraction team."

"I see," Trahearne said. "We have the resources to do all three if necessary-"

After a brief interruption to beat off an attack by the undead, he continued on. "Commander Annhilda, what are your thoughts on these operations?"

The Norn smiled mischievously. "Why have one mug, when there's a whole keg?" Everyone stared at her in confusion.

Only Wynnet chuckled. "Why not, indeed?"

"I thought it was a Whispers thing to be cryptic," Rhyoll complained.

"Look, Trahearne's right, we need to do all three," Annhilda said over him. "Doern's got the best plan. We cannot besiege Arah with Zhaitan's fleet at our back. It needs to go. But if we just do that, Zhaitan will have had time to re-organize his defenses. We've got a contingent of Charr tanks, and they'll be no use at sea. Let's have Efut take them for a ride."

Rhyoll huffed. "An Asura behind the wheel? You're going to need me to keep those babies rolling."

"Splendid thinking, Commander," Efut said, ignoring him. "Will you be joining us as well?"

"I'd love to, but my sights are set on the sea. Therefore… Damara?"

"I've never ridden one of those things before," Damara said, her eyes dancing. "Rhyoll, will you show me how? I want to know _all_ their features." She laughed, then suddenly recomposed herself, cleared her throat, and said, "I mean – as Pact Commander of the Vigil forces, I shall take command of this operation."

"Glad to be working with you, Commander," Efut said.

"Perfect," Annhilda said. "Wynnet, this artifact, are we talking about… the big…" She curved her arms, as if holding a massive ball.

"That we are, Magis- Commander," Wynnet said.

"Don't be so mysterious," Phiadi told her. "It doesn't suit you Priory types. Just because I'm Whispers, doesn't mean I don't care about artifacts of magnitude! Besides, I'll find out anyway."

"You'll be taking that mission, then?" Trahearne asked.

"Of course," Phiadi said. "A little bird told me there's a secret weapon in the works for just such an occasion and I'm itching to test it in the field."

"How'd you find out about that?" Wynnet asked.

"Trade secret," Phiadi said.

"And… me?" Caoilfhionn asked, putting a finger up.

"I want you with me, pup," Annhilda said. "The fleet isn't small, and the heavier we hit it, the fewer problems we'll have."

"And I don't need you," Phiadi said. "I'm a whole squad by myself."

"Everyone happy?" Annhilda said. "Marshal?"

Trahearne nodded gratefully. "You certainly are all decisive. And agreeable."

"That's why you made us commanders," Phiadi said. "And that's why we made a guild. We get things _done_."

"Doern, I want to talk to you," Annhilda said. "What's our current intel on the fleet?"

* * *

"I'm jealous, Commander," said Arda Gyreshriek, the Charr pilot flying Phiadi to her destination. "You get to pilot the meanest battlesuit ever built right into Zhaitan's backyard."

Phiadi giggled, still admiring her new toy. "You should be. I've heard great things about it. Can't wait to put it to the test."

"You're outfitted with the finest weaponry in the Pact," Arda gushed. "Energy beams and ballistics, offense and defense, cased in Deldrimor steel. You're a walking murder machine."

"As I should be," Phiadi said. "Don't forget the teleporter based on Inquest research based on _my_ translocator research."

"Right! Oh, neat, so you're really familiar with the tech. Here comes the drop zone. Good luck, and give Zhaitan my regards."

* * *

Five minutes later, Phiadi was cackling like a hyena as she blasted through seething hordes of undead, melting through armour and bone alike with the massive beam on her armour's chest. "Ahahahahaha! _Hahahahahahahaha!_ Die, you pathetic mindless insects! _Dieeee! Hahahaha!_ "

* * *

"Should we go in, sir?" asked a soldier on a ridge nearby.

Laranthir of the Wild watched the rampaging battlesuit a moment longer through binoculars. "I think not. Let the Commander have her fun. …For our own safety."

* * *

"Enjoying yourself?" Damara called into the back of the tank as it grumbled its way across the low dunes of western Orr. Her hawk, Lina, preened herself on her shoulder.

Rhyoll's chuckle echoed out of the dark, smokey depths. "These babies are sweet! Good to be working around proper engineering again! And best of all, I don't have to walk, hahaha."

"Yeah, you had a bit of trouble before, didn't you?"

"Malchor's Leap _sucked_ engine grease for me. I should've waited behind for these to show up rather than slowing you all down."

"Nonsense!" Damara said. "You didn't slow us down. If you hadn't been there, who would've shot a rocket at that giant zombie chicken?"

"Heheheh. That was a pretty fine moment, wasn't it. How are you doing up there?"

"I'm doing fine," Damara said. "Wind in my face, and the way it joggles over the rocks is fun. Hitting anything hostile is going to be extra hard, though."

"I know you like a challenge!"

"Not as much as you do! -Heads up, or down, we've got incoming!"

* * *

"No one mourns your death! No one…" The undead sniper had fallen, victim of Elli's heartbroken rage, and now she and her hologram fell to her knees, weeping over Zott's fallen form.

Caoilfhionn stood near, his chest aching for her, and yet he was not crushed with grief. It alarmed him – was he becoming used to death, or had he simply not known Zott well enough to be overcome as he had with Sieran and Tonn? He wiped his eyes and turned away to give her some privacy, and saw that Pact reinforcements had arrived.

Lines of tanks had rolled up on a ruined road from inland, rows of infantry marching behind them, and down at the shore, a fleet of Pact ships and submarines had landed, even more infantry disembarking, with a familiar straight wiry figure at their head. A third group was arriving from due north, a smaller group, and he saw Phiadi and Laranthir with them. Damara and Rhyoll hopped off a tank and came over to them as well.

"Good to see you," Annhilda said as the guild came together. "I trust your missions were successful?"

"One hundred percent," Phiadi said. "Of course. Well, we lost our pilot, but she went down fighting. You must have heard the explosions from here."

"Vaguely," Annhilda said. "I think we were a bit preoccupied with the trebuchets."

"We had some trouble, but we've brought the firepower," Damara said.

"Any remaining groundpounding minions of Zhaitan better watch out!" Rhyoll said. "You don't look too happy, Caoilfhionn."

Caoilfhionn looked back at Elli, still weeping where she sat. "We lost a good friend. We almost made it through all together…"

"You lost someone?" Trahearne had arrived and joined them. "Good work bringing the Pact this far. But who was it?"

"Zott," Caoilfhionn said. "He and Elli were becoming closer… It's… painful to lose him."

"I understand," Trahearne said, and after a brief pause, made his way over to Elli. "Elli, you have my sincere condolences. Agent Zott died a hero, and his sacrifice will be remembered."

"He was a great inventor, and a good friend," Annhilda said.

Elli sniffled mightily and scrubbed tears from her eyes, looking up at them all. "He was an irascible old crackpot and you know it. …I… I don't want to believe he's gone. I don't think I really knew what it meant to fight for Tyria. Everyone said, 'this is war, and there's no turning back.' I couldn't appreciate what that meant, but now I know. It means loss, and pain, and sadness, but it also means hope."

"You're right," Trahearne said, looking at Caoilfhionn, and he nodded.

"I won't give up, and I won't turn back," Elli said. "Even when Zott thought _I_ was gone, he kept searching for me. I'll keep him alive too – with my inventions."

"You'll have a chance to do that," Trahearne said. "The Pact isn't turning back, either. We're going to defeat Zhaitan, once and for all. …Excuse me." He bowed to her, and gestured to Hope's Legacy to gather around, leading them a little away so they could confer again in private. "It's good to see all five of you still in one piece. I will need you all for an important mission tomorrow."

"What is it?" Annhilda asked.

"The Priory and I have developed a ritual that we think could cleanse Orr," Trahearne said, and Caoilfhionn's eyes widened. "We just need to get Caladbolg to the proper spot."

"And what spot is that?" Caoilfhionn asked.

He thought he saw the ghost of a smile pass over Trahearne's face. "Do you remember the Azabe Qabar royal crypt, from the Dream? We're going there."

"The Dream?" Rhyoll asked skeptically. "You went to Orr in a dream?"

"The Dream," Caoilfhionn corrected him. "I'm not quite sure of my bearings from here, but…"

"A bit further south," Trahearne said, saving him from floundering. "I'm selecting an assault team to support us, but I want Hope's Legacy with me. This is… too important to me not to have the very best with me."

"You'll have it, sir," Annhilda said, smiling. "We're with you, wherever you go."

"Thank you," Trahearne said. "Get some rest, then. Dismissed."

But he found Caoilfhionn later, after dinner, on the edge of the camp. The clouds, for once, had cleared, letting the moonlight strike the land feebly, and yet it was as if the very sky were oily and diseased. Still, in the distance Caoilfhionn could dimly make out vast shapes towering impossibly high into the sky that he knew could only be the city of Arah – and they were so close to it, and drawing closer by the day.

Trahearne came up beside him. "How are you doing?"

Caoilfhionn looked down from the sky in surprise. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"That's good," Trahearne said. "I had thought you might be grieving."

"Oh." Caoilfhionn thought about it, but though he had been wounded by Zott's death, it was a shallow wound. "I don't know… Is there something wrong with me? I feel like I should be as inconsolable as I was with Tonn, but I am not. I can bear it. Am I becoming too used to death?"

"I don't think so, not in the way that you fear," Trahearne said. "In a way, we all are – we cannot help it – but I think you only did not know him as well as Tonn."

"I did not," Caoilfhionn acknowledged. "But I feel for Elli… And yet she has such strength! To go on, after such a horrible blow – to gain and lose her lover in the same instant…" Fear surged into his stomach. If Trahearne were to die in this quest… he would not be able to go on the way Elli was. He would not be able to speak of hope and of life lessons, even if he happened to also know that Elli hadn't gone to dinner and had been weeping the rest of the day even as she threw herself into work.

He ought to say something soon, even if his chances were non-existent. Just to have it said, and known, before it was too late. But this moment was not the right one, and he hoped Trahearne would not comment on his fear that he could surely sense. "You never said – how are you?"

"I'm quite well, all things considered," Trahearne said. "I'm very glad we made it this far. Things are going frighteningly well, though we had other losses. …Tegwen was one of them."

Caoilfhionn gasped. "Not Tegwen! How?"

"She gave a signal to the tank column to destroy a temple where the undead were gathering. There was an equipment malfunction, I understand, and she was killed in the bombardment."

"No…" This wound cut deeper. With an effort, he swallowed it. He didn't have the luxury now that he'd had before. He had to wait until there was not desperate deeds in his immediate future. "I should go find Carys… if she wishes company."

"She might."

"How do you feel about tomorrow?" Caoilfhionn changed the subject abruptly, eager to speak of something that might give him more cheer – Trahearne himself.

Trahearne inhaled, exhaled. "Excited. Nervous, even. Jittery, almost."

"You never get jittery," Caoilfhionn said in wonder. "But we'll be with you tomorrow. We'll help you see it through."

"I know," Trahearne said. "I'm counting on it."

"I was a little surprised when you said it was the next mission, actually," Caoilfhionn said. "I had thought with the dragon dead, there would be leisure enough for healing the land, and if we failed to kill the dragon, it would soon corrupt the land again, so why…?"

"The dragon draws power from the land," Trahearne explained. "We've taken its supply of magic, its supply of new minions… if we can sever its very hold over the land itself, all we will be left with is a dragon. No mean opponent, of course, but not quite as terrifying as otherwise."

"Ahh. I see."

"You'll get your chance yet, don't worry."

"I wasn't worried," Caoilfhionn, then realized Trahearne had been teasing him deadpan. "Er. Well, you should sleep. If you can." He would go find Carys before he tried to sleep, himself.

"I shall make an attempt," Trahearne said. "Good night, Caoilfhionn."

"Good night, Trahearne."


	21. Love Requited

21: Love Requited

They headed for the tomb the next day with Laranthir, a Norn Bear shaman named Grechen, and a rearguard of about a dozen, leaving the rest of the army to fortify their new camps. Trahearne was confident enough when they set out, but he grew more and more distant as they came to the entrance that Caoilfhionn vaguely remembered from his visit to the Dream.

"This is Azabe Qabar," Trahearne said at the low arch that marked the entrance to the complex. "Grechen, you and Laranthir must hold the entrance. Zhaitan's forces will be relentless. Our survival is in your hands."

The Norn saluted. "I understand, Marshal Trahearne, and I won't fail you. You'll have the time you need."

Trahearne nodded to her and walked firmly into the shadows. Inside, Annhilda went in front, then Phiadi and her minions… Trahearne was falling behind and Caoilfhionn touched his elbow before he slowed to a stop entirely. Trahearne startled and looked up. "Forgive me if I seem distracted, but this is the culmination of my Wyld Hunt. I'm about to answer my life's calling. It's both exhilarating and terrifying."

"It must be," Caoilfhionn said, unable to restrain a hopeful smile. "But let's keep moving, together."

"Right. Yes. My apologies."

They came to the great chamber where the kings were buried, to the back where there was a large space, and Trahearne stopped. "This is the place," he said, his voice very deep and ominous – with apprehension, Caoilfhionn realized. "We'll perform the ritual here. The moment we begin, Zhaitan will know. Be ready for anything."

"We're ready," Annhilda said softly, and Hope's Legacy took up positions surrounding Trahearne, facing outwards, as he planted Caladbolg in the ground before him and began to make gestures, his eyes half-closed in concentration. Caoilfhionn could not watch, but he could feel the magic swirling around him, heard a sound like rushing wind, heard Trahearne make a sharp gesture and hold it, pulling the magic to the ritual with an ever-increasing intensity.

Undead burst from the ground and everything erupted in chaos. Caoilfhionn lashed out with lightning; the only thing that mattered was keeping them away from Trahearne. Not simply because if he was interrupted, he would have to start over, but also with this much magic in one place, if he lost control of it, they would probably all turn into shreds, making starting over moot.

Then Laranthir came dashing in, with about half the rearguard behind him. "Marshal! The rearguard is overwhelmed! Grechen has fallen. You must leave, now!"

"We can't!" Caoilfhionn called back. "We can't interrupt him! We have no choice."

There was a growl from behind Laranthir, and he turned to see: "Grechen! No, not Grechen… only her tortured remains. We must put her to rest."

Annhilda's sword flashed. "Spirits grant you peace, Grechen. Thank you for your service."

As the last undead collapsed to the floor, the swirl of magic in the centre of the chamber reached its height, and Trahearne finally made the symbol that would unleash it. About Caladbolg, vines erupted from the ground, flowers burst out with a scent not smelled on Orr for centuries – but as quick as they grew, they withered, turning black and collapsing onto the dry ground.

Trahearne's face was anguished as he knelt beside the pitiful outcome of all his effort. "No! We were so close! By the Pale Tree… it's impossible." His shoulders sagged and he reached out to take back Caladbolg, then stood and looked down at Grechen's rotting body. "All this… all these lives, wasted. All for nothing."

Caoilfhionn reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, his eyes pleading with him. "Trahearne, didn't you see? The cleansing did work! For a moment, the spirit of the land rose up like a breath of wind."

"We all felt it," Annhilda said. "It was as if Orr's own soul was fighting to be free. The ritual was a success."

Trahearne shook his head. "But the absolution didn't hold. Though sacred, the Royal Tombs weren't strong enough. This isn't the heart of Orr. I wonder if such a 'heart' still exists."

They were all silent for a moment; Caoilfhionn was thinking. "Wait, Trahearne – remember the Dream the Pale Tree showed us? An Orrian king spoke of 'the Source'. Maybe that's what we're looking for."

Trahearne brightened. "You're right. The Source of Orr… Yes! I couldn't remember before, but now I think I remember hearing about such a thing. A priestess of Grenth, and a shaman of the Norn spoke of it. The ancient priests of Grenth were said to be the keepers of Orr's deepest secrets. We'd find them in Orr's Cathedral of Silence. It's a terrifying place, half-shrouded in the Mists."

"And what did the shaman say?" Annhilda asked.

"An ancient Norn explorer, Romke-"

Annhilda thumped her fist into her opposite palm. "Yes."

Trahearne gave her an incredulous smile. "Er- I didn't even finish…"

Annhilda shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Romke's my ancestor. I know what you're talking about, and I'm going after it. The rest of you can go investigate the temple."

"What is it, though?" Damara asked. "Maybe the rest of us would like to come too. I'm not keen on haunted crypts, myself."

"Me either," Rhyoll said. "Got enough of those at home."

"You two are no fun," Phiadi said. "But it looks like I'm already outvoted."

"Supposedly Romke was trapped in Orr when Zhaitan rose beneath his ship," Trahearne said. "Legend says his map was blessed by all four Spirits of the Wild, and can show the route to any destination."

"This is personal," Annhilda said. "That map is mine."

"If it's still here," Phiadi said. "The tidal flat is no place to archive a hundred year old document."

"We'll be able to ask Romke himself. His ghost form is still trapped in Orr, near the Mausollus Sea, bound to the land that ended his journey and his life."

"By Raven!" Annhilda said. "I am going. Now. Alone. The rest of Hope's Legacy will investigate the temple. That is an order."

"Annhilda!" Caoilfhionn cried, chasing after her as she began to stride quickly out of the tombs. "Romke may be your ancestor, but this is Trahearne's Wyld Hunt, and the quest of everyone in the Pact."

She slowly turned and met his gaze with an icy stare. "You don't understand," she began.

Caoilfhionn took her hand with a sweet smile. "We're here for you. We want to help you. That's why we formed a guild, isn't it?"

"…Yes, I suppose it is," she said, softened, and waited – though impatiently, he could tell.

"It's not yet noon," Laranthir said. "We may yet have time if we move swiftly. Shall I prepare another escort?"

"Yes," Trahearne said. "An aerial one, please. But you and these soldiers must return to camp and rest."

Laranthir grimaced a little but did not object. "I'll get it done immediately, Marshal."

They headed back the way they had come. "We were close!" Caoilfhionn said to Trahearne.

"Closer than ever before," Trahearne agreed. "We – I cannot give up hope. My Wyld Hunt is not in vain. I've seen that now with my own eyes. You have my gratitude for all that you've done. All of you," he said, raising his voice a little.

The others gave him smiles of their own. "No problem!" Damara said for all of them. "We're glad to help! It's going to be awesome."

* * *

Annhilda stood on the beach, her hands on her hips, and regarded her ancestor. "Well."

"We're free!" Romke said, spreading his arms wide with a warm smile. "The curse is lifting, thanks to you."

"So it's into the Mists for you next, eh?" Annhilda said. "May the Spirits watch over you there."

"And may they watch over you in this life," Romke said. "I know you'll put the map to good use. Just try to be more careful with it than you were with my horn!" He winked.

Annhilda shuffled and… blushed? "I got it back, though! …And then it got broken… but it's the inspiration, the legacy that counts, right?"

"I know, I know. Hey, when you destroy Zhaitan, spit in the rotten worm's face for us."

Annhilda grinned. "Will do, Captain. Thanks for all your help, and enjoy your final reward."

"We will. Farewell!" Romke had been losing definition as they spoke, and now he dissolved entirely into the wind, blown away on a rising evening breeze.

* * *

Night had long fallen on the Pact camp as Caoilfhionn left its walls and headed for the docks. He should have been sleeping, but he couldn't. There was something far more important on his mind, something that made his stomach flip-flop inside of him – but he pressed on anyway. He climbed on board one of the smaller vessels, one with no crew abovedecks, and headed aft.

Trahearne was there, leaning on the railing, staring out at the water, where the full moon left a rippling white road west to the horizon. Even the oily atmosphere couldn't completely quench its beauty. He looked up as Caoilfhionn climbed the narrow stairs towards him. "Good evening, Caoilfhionn. Couldn't sleep?"

"No," Caoilfhionn said, with a rather foolish grin. "You either?"

"Mm."

Caoilfhionn took a place beside him, also leaning on the railing, looking at the sea too. He didn't know what to say now that he was here.

"Tomorrow will be more difficult," Trahearne said at last. "Zhaitan knows what I'm up to now."

"I won't leave your side," Caoilfhionn assured him.

"You never have," Trahearne said. "Thank you. It… means a lot to me." He clenched one hand on the railing and frowned, inhaled to say more, and thought better of it.

Caoilfhionn noticed, but his mind was too full to ask for more. So he simply stood stupidly, watching the water. They stood in silence together for what seemed an eternity.

Trahearne glanced at him. "You… seem to have something you want to say?"

"Yes, actually," Caoilfhionn said, taking a deep breath and turning to face him full on.

And was caught in admiration – of that sharp profile, those narrow yellow eyes, those full dark leaves with lovely luminescence flowing through them, stunning in the weak moonlight. Trahearne was strong, and cunning, and noble, and brave, and melancholy, and beautiful, and he _adored_ him with all his body and soul-

"What is it?" Trahearne asked, looking at him in perplexity and raising a hand to brush at his own face. "Is there something on my face…?"

"I love you," Caoilfhionn gasped out with a little sigh.

Trahearne froze – Caoilfhionn froze – and then panicked. He had meant to confess but not like this-! "Ah, i-it's – if you don't reciprocate, it's fine, I only wanted to tell you-" He turned to run-

-and was stopped by a lean hand closing quickly around his wrist. "Wait!" Trahearne said, so soft and gentle. "Caoilfhionn… I… Why me?"

Caoilfhionn turned back to face him with a helplessly adoring smile, noticing that Trahearne's luminescence had brightened and quickened almost as much as his own. Trahearne was right; he couldn't run away until he'd explained himself, no matter the cost. He couldn't read Trahearne's spirit clearly yet – surprise and confusion, mostly. "Why? How could I not love you? I've loved you since the moment we met."

Trahearne looked away in embarrassment, though he still hadn't let go of his hand. "That does sound like something you would do…"

Caoilfhionn laughed nervously. "Ahaha… But I wanted to tell you, even now when I might die tomorrow, because… I've seen how hard it is for you, and I wanted you to know how much you are loved. That I love you, completely, utterly, madly. That being in love with you is inspiring and makes me happy and _mmff-!_ "

Trahearne had taken a quick step forward, drawing Caoilfhionn to him with wiry arms, and pressed his lips against his firmly. Caoilfhionn gasped, nearly swooning clean away, having just enough presence of mind to wrap his arms around Trahearne and kiss him back. The sensation – the strong arms around him, firm fingers on the back of his head, the lean body pressing against his, the lips softer than he'd imagined, surrounded by the rich scent of slightly bitter green freshness – he was transported to delights unknown. The realization was exploding in his mind like fireworks – _Trahearne loved him back!_ By the Pale Tree, was it possible to be this happy!?

Trahearne pivoted to pin him against the cabin of the ship, and that made him even happier. His lover, despite having initiated such a bold kiss, was still shy at first, but as Caoilfhionn responded enthusiastically, became more forceful very rapidly and Caoilfhionn clung to him in a desperation of fulfilled yearning. Trahearne pulled away from him most unwillingly after _several_ minutes, but they were both running short on air. "I never dared hope – but that was foolish of me, wasn't it? You are the very embodiment of hope, Caoilfhionn."

"A-am I?" panted Caoilfhionn, gazing up at him with with round eyes. "I always thought you would think me too young, too new – that you would have fallen in love already, though you said you had not…"

"And I always thought you would find me too old, too disturbing, too depressing. I knew you loved _someone_ and never dared dream it would be me. Glad am I to find we were both wrong." Trahearne smiled at him, the sweetest smile he'd ever seen on him. Any Sylvari nearby would have been knocked over by the happiness and love radiating off both of them. " _Fear not this night, you will not go astray-_ "

" _Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way,_ " Caoilfhionn joined in eagerly.

" _And you can always be strong,_ " Trahearne sang to him softly. " _Lift your voice with the first light of dawn… Dawn's just a heartbeat away… Hope's just a sunrise away…_ You are my dawn, Caoilfhionn, the dawn that has brought light and joy to my long night."

"And you are the dusk that gives me peace and love," Caoilfhionn answered. "Without the dusk, the dawn couldn't exist."

Trahearne kissed him again, and rested his forehead against his own. "You say such pretty things about me."

"They're all true."

"It may take some time to believe that."

"I'll kill the dragon, and then we'll have all the time we could want."

"That would be nice. My Caoilfhionn. My… my Orchid Prince." And Caoilfhionn thought he had never loved that epithet so much as this moment, with Trahearne murmuring it to him in a deep, tender voice that resonated through him so. He suddenly didn't mind that Damara had let it slip.

"My Trahearne," he whispered back. "My scholar. My beloved. I am yours forever."

"And I am yours." Trahearne let go of his embrace and took his hand again. "But before forever, or even tomorrow comes, we should rest."

"With you?" Caoilfhionn asked, squeezing the hand gently.

"I'd like that."

* * *

Trahearne still did not sleep quite yet, even when they had lain down together in his tent. Caoilfhionn had dropped off rapidly, but he never could, not just like that. And besides, now he had ample justification to stare shamelessly at the young Sylvari in his arms, to study every vein on his smooth azure face and violet leaves, the peach luminescence running through his skin, the delicate tendrils of his beard, the contented smile that still transformed his whole expression, to breathe in his floral cinnamon scent. He had thought he loved him before; now he loved him tenfold. He'd watched him grow over the past almost-year, seen his newborn innocence tempered through trial and grief into a maturity that rendered him far more beautiful than the naive young Valiant he had been before. How would he grow, in ten years, or even five?

He had wondered before if he really deserved to be this happy, but as Caoilfhionn walked boldly into his feelings, that had bothered him less and less – because he really couldn't help it. He couldn't even feel guilty about it. He would take whatever happiness he could get in these dark, stressful times, and he had been given so much all at once…

Already Caoilfhionn had become his heart; the heart of his guild, Hope's Legacy; and with the stakes of the quest before them, the heart and hope of all Tyria. He hoped – oh, he hoped – he would not cure Orr only to lose him to the dragon. That would be unbearable. Caoilfhionn was skilled… but the dragon was very strong.

He decided to try not to think on it, not in this moment, instead filling his mind with more thoughts of the love that he still could not believe was requited. He kissed his forehead, gently as not to wake him, and closed his eyes to try to sleep.

* * *

Caoilfhionn woke the next morning early as he always did and at first did not know where he was – why there was breathing green warmth next to him – but then all his joy came flooding back, not that it had gone very far while he slept. Carefully, he propped himself up on one elbow to watch Trahearne sleep.

"You're watching me, sapling?" Trahearne murmured after a few minutes.

Caoilfhionn blinked. "You're awake?" He knew very well that Trahearne was not a morning person.

"Your aura woke me."

"Sorry."

"Not at all." Trahearne opened his eyes and smiled blearily at him. "I'm glad you're here."

Caoilfhionn bent and kissed him. "I'm glad to be here. Today, we fulfill your Wyld Hunt."

"With you beside me, we can do anything." Trahearne's arms slid closer around him and pulled him in for more kisses – many more kisses – until he pushed him away again, reluctantly pointing out that they really couldn't skip breakfast today of all days. Caoilfhionn laughed and rolled off the cot to look for his boots. He hadn't had enough – he could never have enough – but he would fight his hardest to ensure they had time later for more.

* * *

They assembled that day at a hidden passage in the back of the Cathedral of Verdance, Trahearne, Hope's Legacy, and a contingent of the best soldiers from all three Orders and beyond. There was Wegaff, and Mabbran, Elli, and Laranthir, and Carys, and Shashoo of the quaggans, Wynnet and Zrii and Afanen and even Sayeh al' Rajihd, and many more whom Caoilfhionn knew only in passing. Trahearne spoke to them all with stirring words, lifting Caladbolg high, and they cheered him and took up defensive positions at the mouth of the passage. "Stand ready," Trahearne told them, "and stand together!"

Hope's Legacy set off down the passage. "This is it," Trahearne said to them as they jogged together. "This is the Source of Orr, the font of its magic – the water from which this land draws life. The heartbeat of this land is weak and thready, but I can hear it. When we reach the Source… then we will know for sure."

They rounded a corner in the winding tunnel and nearly headlong into a group of undead. Caoilfhionn yelped in surprise, and Trahearne steadied him with a hand on his back. "Stay focussed, Caoilfhionn."

"I'm ready, Trahearne," Caoilfhionn reassured him. "Let's do this." Instantly he sprang away on feet of lightning, into the midst of the undead, zapping them away from him.

The fight was already fierce, past the guards all the way up to a great portal at the end of the corridor; here they might have been halted or even defeated by the Risen Knights there, but the last Eye of Zhaitan wished to see them… and that gave them the space to slay the Eye and the Knights.

Trahearne stepped up to the edge of the murky spring and looked at them all – but mostly at Caoilfhionn. "Here, at the end, I am glad that you're with me. We will cleanse Orr together… as we were meant to do."

Caoilfhionn stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "Nothing will harm you while you do this. I'll protect you."

Trahearne smiled at him and drew Caladbolg, planting it point down in the centre of the spring, then began to cast again. Once more, they took up positions around him, tense, waiting, ready.

The magic here was almost suffocating; Caoilfhionn could only hear the battle ringing about him dimly, fighting as if in a trance himself – the only thing before him was the next enemy, and the next, the only thing he could hear clearly was his own breathing as he cast fire and water at the Risen Knights rushing them.

Then Pact soldiers were storming into the chamber, shouting. "We're being overwhelmed. Fall back!"

"Form up and protect Marshal Trahearne at all costs!" called Warmaster Efut, and the soldiers rallied to her cry, making a solid line of steel and magic between them and the oncoming undead. Caoilfhionn spun and slashed, half-dancing his way across the battlefield, sliding between rusted swords and baleful spells, conscious only of the building pressure in the chamber. On, the undead came, on to his blades of fire, and the Pact forces were being pushed back, back towards the centre of the spring, to where the wind was gathering so cool and sweet.

Trahearne gave a shout and the spell released – green and gold light sprang from Caladbolg, vines erupted from the water, ancient husks of trees grew green and flowering about the walls of the chamber, and the water bubbled crystal clear among the pebbles. Everywhere Caoilfhionn looked turned to warm green life, beautiful, healthy, and strong. The remaining undead stumbled and ran; most were cut down by arrows and bullets and magic. He didn't even notice, as he ran towards the epicentre of the explosion of life, feeling it wash over him with gentle power.

"It's done," Trahearne said, panting heavily, his entire body shaking visibly with exertion, triumph ringing through his strained voice. "I can feel the waters beginning to radiate with the energy of Caladbolg, flowing everywhere the water touches." He staggered and fell forwards – into Caoilfhionn's arms.

Trahearne's weight carried them both to their knees in the spring and Caoilfhionn peered at him anxiously. "Trahearne, are you all right!?"

Trahearne lifted his head wearily, still collecting his breath. "It took a great deal out of me, but I will live-"

He didn't get any further because Caoilfhionn lunged forward and kissed him soundly, his embrace tightening around him – he was so proud of his love, so in love with his love, he could hardly stand it.

It took him a moment to realize that everyone was staring at them, and another moment to realize they were beginning to laugh and cheer. "By the Gods, my ship is sailing!" yelled Damara.

"Public displays are disgusting…ly cute," Phiadi said. "Ugh. I'm going to be sick."

"About time!" said Annhilda.

"Yes, if you two made eyes at each other when the other wasn't looking for much longer, I was gonna say something," Rhyoll said.

"Wait, what?" Caoilfhionn said, as they separated in confusion.

"I did not _make eyes_ at him-" Trahearne began.

"Oh, yes you did," Wynnet said. "Spirits bless you, but everyone could see it. From both of you. Who asked who first, by the way?"

"I-I did?" Caoilfhionn confessed.

Wynnet smacked her armoured thigh. "Doern, you owe me five gold."

"So I do," Doern said. "Sadly, it is back at Fort Trinity."

Trahearne was pushing to his feet, and Caoilfhionn helped him. "Are you sure you don't want a medic?"

"I'm sure. Thank you." He still felt unsteady to Caoilfhionn, but he was recovering, both physically and as Marshal of the Pact. "We must regroup at Fort Trinity, and then we will have the opportunity to plan the final strike. Let this door be sealed to keep the undead out; nothing must be allowed to poison this spring again. The waters must spread undisturbed."

"We'll take care of it," Efut said. "The airlift should be here any minute now."

Leaning on Caoilfhionn's shoulder, Trahearne let out a great, relieved sigh. "It has been a part of me since I took my first steps, but now my Wyld Hunt is complete. It's time I redefine myself. A rare and unique challenge… but I have the Pact to keep me busy. Thank you all, for all that you've done."

Annhilda smirked at him. "Here, now, why are you talking like everything's ready to get packed up? We're not quite done yet!"

"Well, but we can have a _little_ celebration tonight, can't we?" Damara wheedled. "We're heading back to the fort for tonight anyway."

"After we finalize our plans for tomorrow's attack," Trahearne said. "Anyone not involved in that can certainly celebrate as soon as they choose. Everyone gets extra rations tonight. I'm weary."

"You can rest soon," Caoilfhionn told him. "We're almost there."

* * *

Trahearne had gone to visit the medics on disembarking, and told Caoilfhionn to go help those trying to celebrate, so he had obediently gone off and helped serve two or three rounds of drinks to everyone – everyone except the engineers, that was, who refused and kept working feverishly on the airships in dock. But after an hour or so of listening to everyone chatter and laugh and blow off a little steam, he began to search for him. Trahearne had left the medics, and the strategy session, but no one knew where he had gone…

Sayeh al' Rajihd materialized out of the shadows near the airship landing. "Come to me. We must discuss."

"Lady Sayeh?" Caoilfhionn said politely.

"You are looking for Trahearne, are you not?"

"Yes… have you seen him?"

He thought the enigmatic woman might have smiled behind her breathing mask. "The Marshal is also a solitary creature. He avoids the attention of others, but not mine. You'll find him up on the vessel above."

"Thank you, Lady Sayeh. May your steps be relentless."

Trahearne was on the deck of the ship docked there, the _Humble_ , leaning on the railing and looking out at Orr thoughtfully.

"What's the matter, beloved?" Caoilfhionn asked, coming up beside him and settling his arms about Trahearne's waist.

Trahearne looked down and smiled, and put his own arm about Caoilfhionn's shoulders. "This is a great day, a joyous day… but I am still troubled. To achieve such a victory, with so much yet to be done…"

Caoilfhionn bonked his head into Trahearne's shoulder. "I know. However. Put down your burden for but a moment and let the Pact cheer its Marshal! We've been waiting for you."

Trahearne hesitated, then nodded. "You're right. Victory does not end a general's responsibility to his soldiers. I shall join the celebration."

Caoilfhionn beamed at him. "Good! Let's go together."

"By the Tree… They're going to swarm us, aren't they?"

"You say that like it's the most dreadful of fates. They're happy for us!" They really were; nearly everyone he talked to had congratulated him. The news had spread quickly, it seemed, the gossip on everyone's tongue.

"Isn't it, though? …Can't we meet in the grotto under Lyssa's Temple instead?"

"I'd be willing to help restore that place to its rightful purpose, once the waters of the Source have had time to spread so far…"

"I'll stay for a little while, and then I need to rest. We have to be up early tomorrow."


	22. Victory or Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Zhaitan fight, I used [Apex of the World](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuB3T76HTng) (FE3H), and for the party afterwards I used [打ち上げ花火](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DUpMyVHN2o) by Cellchrome (or Fireworks is what Google Translate tells me that means) which doesn't have the studio version on YouTube, only live mall performances which are… not actually that great (sorry Cellchrome, you guys sound better on CD, I will buy all your CDs if you make them available in Canada, deal?)
> 
> The most egregious thing that needed adjusting for me in this final part of the game _was_ the final boss fight, because Zhaitan goes down like a sad puppy in the game and… like… some Wyld Hunt that was. I wanted to stab the dragon myself, not watch it die by clicking the "shoot cannon" button over and over! (Also that dungeon is very slow and doesn't have great pacing.)

22: Victory or Death

Hope's Legacy were on board the _Humble_ , riding the airship to the gates of Arah, when a Charr copter flew by. "Destiny's Edge has been forced down! They need your assistance!" the pilot yelled through the window.

"Understood!" said Captain Vandem. "Everyone, hold on to something!"

"Destiny's Edge is here?" Damara asked.

"Cooperating?" Phiadi said, with a sly look at Caoilfhionn.

"We'll know soon enough," Annhilda said. "There they are, fighting a lot of those big abominations."

"Is there space to put down?" Rhyoll asked doubtfully.

"This isn't a tank," Captain Vandem said. "Watch us!"

Rope ladders were unfurled, and one by one, the members of Destiny's Edge and the crew of their downed airship clambered up – but-

"Logan!" cried Caithe, looking down, as an abomination seized the rope ladder and ripped it from the ship. "No!"

Rytlock growled. "That idiot! I'll hound him into the Mists for this!"

Eir put down Garm from her shoulders. "I thought that this time, together, we would be unbeatable. Could I have been wrong?"

"We can't lose him, not after coming back together," Zojja said.

"We have lost him again," Caithe said. "Can we survive this?"

Rytlock slowly shook his head. "No. I don't believe he's truly dead. Logan's the most foolish, but also the bravest and most combat-savvy human I've ever known. He'll find a way out."

Phiadi elbowed Caoilfhionn in the shin and he stepped away from her – her elbows were sharp!

"Sorry to interrupt," Captain Vandam said, "but we've got gigantic minions of Zhaitan up ahead. Battle stations!"

* * *

Trahearne paced restlessly at the Cathedral of Verdance. He longed to be in the fight, but he was still too weak after the day before… He would only have slowed them down, and they knew what to do. He flexed his hands in front of him, uselessly, then forced himself to relax them and looked up once again at the sky.

It was hard to make out anything from here, the airships, the dragons, anything – the clouds were thick today and Arah was far enough away that all he could really sense were the sounds. The sky rumbled with cannonfire, with the shriek of burning engines, with dragons screaming. How many were there!? And where was Destiny's Edge, where was Hope's Legacy among them? Where was Caoilfhionn? Where was Caithe? His closest Valiants, with their Wyld Hunts drawing them to the Elder Dragon?

To be sure, Caithe could handle herself; he'd long given up trying to worry for her no matter what she got up to. Though he was always a little worried, as a brother ought to be. But Caoilfhionn… his heart reached out to him, praying for his safety like he'd never prayed before. If only he could…!

He fixed his eyes on the sky and waited, as his guards waited, as they all who were not currently fighting waited.

* * *

The fight was a long, slogging battle through the air, taking out select ground targets to assist the infantry and tanks that were also rolling through the destroyed city, then rising higher again to tangle with lesser dragons. The _Humble_ was far less nimble than the dragons, but her cannons hit harder than their breath, especially with her physical shielding augmented with Asuran forcefields.

But the third dragon they fought got a lucky shot in, tearing a great hole in the steel bubble that kept the ship aloft. The ship shuddered beneath them and tilted, fire and smoke pouring from the hull, and Caoilfhionn suddenly noticed how very high they were – they were above some of the clouds, even, and the only ground he saw was the great central cone of Orr and a few spires from Arah below them. Someone on the crew was whimpering in fear.

Zojja, clinging to the railing by the bow, pointed suddenly. "Another ship coming in! And it's a huge one!" Below them, the clouds parted and an airship the length of the Durmand Priory came into view – and what an airship! It was gloriously patterned like a dragonfly, with delicate wings streaming back from its engines; Sylvari influence was heavy in its design and he couldn't help but think it the most beautiful airship he'd ever seen.

"And they're heading straight for us, thank the Six Gods!" Damara exclaimed. "Think they'll pick us up?"

"If it gets close enough, get aboard anyway!" Eir said.

But the great ship maintained its heading towards them, pulling up beside their floundering vessel, and Logan Thackeray met them at its side. "Come on, you laggards! We don't have all day!"

"Logan! You're alive!" Rytlock boomed.

"You think I was going to let you all go up against Zhaitan without me?" Logan said with a big grin, pulling Rytlock safely onto the deck.

"Logan, I am delighted to see you are well," Caithe said. "I thought…"

"I know," Logan said. "I got out by the skin of my teeth and hopped a lift with this ship, the _Glory of Tyria_. Isn't she a beauty? I'm told she got out of drydock about an hour ago."

"Impressive," Zojja sniffed. "I think this is just what we need to take down an Elder Dragon."

"Everyone, to battle stations," Eir cried. "We're going in!" Garm barked and wagged his tail violently. Only Caoilfhionn spared a glance for the _Humble_ as it sank below the clouds; it had been a good ship while it lived.

"What is that!?" came a shout from the port gunners. "Look at the size of that thing!"

"Zhaitan!" Annhilda cried. None of them had seen the Elder Dragon before, in person or depiction, but each of them knew for a certainty that the eldritch horror flying through the sky between the lightning strikes was the one they sought. Caoilfhionn stared in awe at the writhing conglomeration of pale rotting wings, tails, even heads. Its eyes glowed green and it dwarfed even their great ship twice over, horrible, terrifying, majestic in its sheer scale. Here, he knew, was Death Personified – and his Wyld Hunt cried out in his heart, calling him to battle.

"Sheesh, he looks like one of my summons from when I was a progeny," Phiadi muttered, ruining the moment.

"Here it comes!" shouted Logan. "Brace yourselves!"

Caoilfhionn had just time to anchor himself to the deck with Earth magic when Zhaitan skimmed the bow of the _Glory of Tyria_ , tearing a good twenty metres off the front like it was not even there, leaving only splintered wood and twisted metal behind. The airship shuddered and lurched to the side; the engines strained as the pilot fought to hold them steady. Everyone about him flailed, and he reached out to steady Rhyoll before he slipped. The noxious stench of the dragon swept over them and he choked, covering his nose with his sleeve. The soldiers on the cannons at the bow of the ship had been turned to zombies by sheer proximity; Eir coolly shot them before they could get close.

Zojja recovered her footing and pushed her way to the main cannon controls. "Stand aside. I have this."

"Excuse me!?" exclaimed the Asura who had been standing there. "This is a mist-cooled tripartate thautmatium energy weapon."

"Uh-huh," said Zojja, dead-pan. "With a lead tracer array set for draconic energy. Who do you think designed it? I know how to handle this. I won't break it. Much."

The Dragon flew overhead again, not striking them this time, but releasing a flood of undead to land on the forward deck, and for a couple minutes all was blades and spells for the remainder of Destiny's Edge and Hope's Legacy. And not only did they have undead gorillas, quaggan, and Norn to contend with, but the dragon's breath corrupted all it touched. Caoilfhionn fought with all his strength, determination blazing in his soul. They would not be overwhelmed here, not when they were so close!

"Steady, steady," Zojja muttered as the ship slowly tracked Zhaitan. The Elder Dragon was not as nimble as its lieutenants, but it was still faster than the airship… Caoilfhionn waited with bated breath, the wind whipping his leaves violently as they surged through the sky.

Zojja slammed her fist on the biggest button on her control panel, and energy gathered hissing and crackling in the ship's main cannon, mounted high aft, and it blasted out with a _zzzzzap_ that nearly deafened him and made Rhyoll's fur stand on end. The Dragon writhed and roared – its tail! Its largest tail had been struck, and was tearing free, along with several smaller tails and limbs. It came at them with a sudden charge, roaring in rage, promising their doom with its hateful eyes.

"Get _DOWN!_ " Rytlock roared, and the dragon crashed against the aft of the ship, tearing the aft cabin and the cannon off the ship, turning what had been a marvel of engineering into a smoking ruin. The _Glory_ pitched wildly, and he flung himself to the deck with the others-

"Wait!" Damara screamed – and went tumbling from the edge.

"Damara!" they all cried, but it was too late, she was gone from view. How horrible! Damara!

"Get back on those cannons!" Eir ordered, crawling to her feet and pointing. "Put more hurt on him! It's him or us!" Pale Pact soldiers rushed to obey, and they fired, more searing energy weapons raking the Dragon's hide as it flew by once again.

This was no good. Caoilfhionn clenched his fists in desperate frustration. What good was he, were all of them, simply riding this ship!? Even Eir's sturdy arrows were surely no good against such a behemoth, and they'd lost Damara. His magic, channeled through his daggers, could only reach an armslength around him… Caithe, too, with her own daggers.

Zhaitan writhed under their assault, even his armour burning under the energy beams, then turned, gaping maw glowing brilliant green, and dove for them. Several people screamed as the enormous Dragon crashed into the side of the ship – and latched on, roaring at them all, broken wings flapping uselessly. Everything caught in its breath withered – the cannons melted, their crews turning to undead instantly, the wooden deck rotting beneath their feet. The ship tilted and rocked, the engines wailing under the strain of carrying both ship and Dragon. Lightning cracked nearby.

Caoilfhionn stared down Death with wide eyes, that gaping, jawless green maw filled with a dozen smaller dragon heads all snarling at them. Well now, here it was, within the reach of his daggers at the other end of the deck, and what could he do even now!? Sylvari as he was, he might not become turned, but he would die, and die uselessly, if he charged it full on.

And yet the ten – nine of them were all that stood between this Dragon and annihilation for everyone. He felt no fear in this moment – this was what he had been born for.

"I have it!" Annhilda cried. "Eir, keep those undead off us, and get ready to tell of a new legend!"

"Annhilda!" Eir said. "We'll protect you – and help you if we get the chance. You think you can take that thing down?"

"I swear it," Annhilda said fiercely. "Caoilfhionn! Launch me!" She grabbed a nearby hammer, a hefty steel polearm that one of the crew had let fall, and beckoned to him.

He gasped. "Eh?"

She nodded frantically. "I know you can. With your Air magic. Launch me straight at his ugly mug! …Mugs."

"You'll be dead before you get there!" Phiadi cried. "If only I could mobilize a Well of Power…"

"Put it here," Rhyoll said, opening his Charrzooka and revealing the missile within. "This'll take careful timing. Caoilfhionn, you think you can handle it?"

Brilliant! Insane, suicidal, but brilliant! He set his eyes on the frothing dragon with determination. "Absolutely. Ready, Annhilda?"

"Do it now!" Annhilda shouted, hefting the hammer to strike.

Caoilfhionn looked at Rhyoll, breathed with him, and cast – not on himself, but to give Annhilda a burst of lightning, to send her flying quick as an arrow. At the exact same instant, Rhyoll launched his enchanted missile, Phiadi's spell flying on it before Annhilda and turning Zhaitan's corruption to blessing.

The heartbeat of the world slowed to this one instant; the wind in his leaves, Zhaitan's roar, the dazzling spark of his spell as he flung his guild leader forward with all his strength, the lightning crashing through the clouds. Annhilda reached the end of the lightning spell and for a moment he saw wings erupt from her back as she reached the massive Dragon's face and swung the hammer with all her might. In that instant, a burst of light, white-hot as a tiny sun, blinded him.

Everything was obscured by fire and miasma. He couldn't see Zhaitan or Annhilda. Then the _Glory of Tyria_ lurched – and lurched again, as Zhaitan's claws fell away from its hull and the great Dragon plummeted away, its skull smashed to pieces, soon to be smashed again upon the spires of Arah.

"Annhilda!" screamed Caoilfhionn, reaching out helplessly. They'd lost Damara only moments ago, and now Annhilda had gone with the Dragon… inevitable perhaps, but still, he'd hoped-

"A… A little help here?" came a faint call from the lower deck, and they rushed to the railing to see – Damara, stretched out on her stomach on the deck, both hands hanging onto one of Annhilda's for dear life as the Norn dangled off the edge of the airship.

Madly, Caoilfhionn swung down over the edge to land beside them, summoning clinging vines to grow from the hull where Annhilda might grab them and pull herself up. Phiadi came sprinting along from the ramp to the upper deck, and Rhyoll following as fast as he could with his limp.

" _By the Eternal thrice-damned Alchemy!_ " Phiadi screeched, and launched herself into Annhilda's arms. "I spent my best spell on you so you wouldn't die and then you almost did anywayyyy!"

Annhilda tried to comfort the crying Asura. "But I didn't die – by the grace of the Spirits and all your help. We won, Hope's Legacy. We won. I left the hammer buried in the dragon's skull up to the handle."

Caoilfhionn also threw himself at Annhilda, and Damara. "I'm so glad you're both alive! Praise the Pale Tree!"

"And the Six Gods," Damara said. "Not an experience I want to repeat!"

"And the steel that brought us here," Rhyoll said. "It did the real work, you know."

By now they were all tightly gathered in a group hug, only interrupted by a polite cough from the side. They turned to see Destiny's Edge gathered there, beaming at them.

"Well done," Eir said grandly. "I knew you could do it. All of Tyria owes you an immeasurable debt. On behalf of Garm and Destiny's Edge, thank you." Garm barked and wagged his tail.

"Can't believe you got that half-cocked idea to work," Rytlock grumbled. "Glad it did, though. When you got a moment, I'd like to toast to your victory."

"I salute you, and not just because half of you outrank me," Logan said with an easy grin. "You've made Tyria safer, stronger, and more secure."

"Thank you all," Caithe said. "For helping Trahearne and Caoilfhionn and me with our Wyld Hunts. If you keep helping Sylvari this way, we may have to make the rest of you honorary Sylvari."

Zojja sighed. "I didn't expect you to succeed so spectacularly. Now I have to recalculate my Heroic Potential Matrix. Thanks a lot for the extra work. Oh, and for cleansing Orr, killing Zhaitan, and so on…"

Everyone laughed. "Wait, who's driving this thing!?" Rhyoll exclaimed.

"Good question!" said Annhilda. "Let's confirm that monster is dead, and then head to Fort Trinity to bust open some kegs!"

* * *

The air had never felt so sweet to Caoilfhionn as now, as they turned to fly for home base, the remaining dragons breaking on the rest of the fleet, the other airships turning to form up on them, wounded, limping, yet triumphant. He'd never felt so alive, so free, so joyful, even with all the weight of the grief that had come with them so far, so fulfilled with the conclusion of his Wyld Hunt. All he wanted now was Trahearne's beautiful smile and his life would be complete.

They disembarked in the clear twilight and quickly made way for more airships to land with, and they were all talking at once. "Courage, skill, and friendship brought the dragon low," Eir said, raising her hands high in a gesture of praise. "Let this day never be forgotten!"

"A victory that all Tyria can share!" Logan said, raising his fist with hers.

Rytlock huffed. "This is not an ending. There are other dragons out there. Other battles."

Zojja gave him a look and rolled her eyes. "You shambling fuzz-ball. Can't you just be happy?"

Rytlock raised an eyebrow at her. "I _was_ being happy."

"Will you return to your queen now, Logan?" Caithe asked.

Logan shook his head. "No. Not until I know that Kryta's safe."

Rytlock grinned and slapped Logan on the back. "Meaning he's up for more fighting. See? Logan's happy, too."

Eir nodded. "Snaff would be proud of us. Especially of you, Zojja."

"Proud that we didn't screw up and plant our faces in the mud again, you mean?" Zojja said, a little sharp still – but that was just Zojja. "…I guess he would, at that."

Eir chuckled and turned to them all. "So who's next? Jormag… Primordus… Kralkatorrik?"

"As dawn scatters shadows, so we will destroy them all." Caithe said, and looked to Hope's Legacy. "We could not have done this without you. Thank you."

Annhilda shrugged "You're welcome. You can count on us."

"Good," Caithe said. "Because Eir is right. The rest of the dragons are still out there, waiting."

"We'll get them," Caoilfhionn said to her. "Wait and see."

He smiled brightly and they entered the courtyard, where food and drink had already been set up – and fireworks! And music! There were so many people, the entire army from all the Pact, from every nation and race – even those who had been on active duty right up until the battle had been recalled, for there was no need to hold land against the undead when the undead leader was gone.

"Oh, hey!" Annhilda said, grabbing his arm before he got separated in the crowd. He could barely hear even her strong voice over the hubbub and the fireworks. "I know we haven't really talked about this, but you should invite Wegaff to the guild!"

"But he doesn't…"

"I know! But he can still be part of the guild! We should have done this ages ago. Hey, Phiadi! Ask your Mabbran friend, too! Rhyoll, I don't suppose your yellow friend would want to join our guild? Damara, you got any friends looking to join?"

"If we're doing all that, we need a guild hall," Phiadi said. "Someplace in Lion's Arch where we can meet and conduct experiments. We have to be less wishy-washy about our organization."

"I don't do experiments, but there's my farm near Divinity's Reach?" Damara said.

"Your pets are remarkably even-tempered, but I can't imagine they'd appreciate constant exposure to my work, hahaha!" Rhyoll said. "I vote for Lion's Arch."

"Agreed," Annhilda said. "Caoilfhionn, tell Wegaff he can have his own lab, that should get his attention."

Caoilfhionn snagged a glass of champagne and went in search of his old friend; he found him arguing vehemently with Researcher Fero. "Wegaff! Spare a moment?"

"Caoilfhionn! You finally did it. Can't say I'm surprised. You always were the type to go running up to the most dangerous thing in the test area and try to poke it."

"I actually didn't do that much," Caoilfhionn said cheerfully. "Zojja and Annhilda did most of it."

"More than me," Wegaff said, shrugging. "Though I'm hoping to be on the Dragon recovery team tomorrow."

"Say, how would you like to join Hope's Legacy?"

Wegaff narrowed his eyes. "You know I'm not one for combat field work-"

"I know, I know, but I'm not asking you for that. We just want to have more friends around, like you!"

"Hmm. So what sort of amenities have you gained as a guild?"

"Err…" Caoilfhionn sweated a little. "Not much, but Phiadi was _just_ saying we need a guild hall, where she could have a lab, and you can have a lab, and there's also a half-mad Charr with a workshop who will be more than happy to produce prototypes of anything you want, especially if it explodes-"

"Sold," Wegaff said with a giggle, and shook Caoilfhionn's hand enthusiastically. "I'll be more than happy to help you look for a place to call our own. I've missed my personal lab – say, can I bring my krewe from Rata Sum?"

"Of course!" Caoilfhionn said gaily, not knowing what the others would really think, but still sure they wouldn't mind. "I'm glad you're going to join us. This will be exciting!"

He stayed to take part in the conversation for a while longer before excusing himself – there were many more people he wanted to talk to, and he hadn't seen Trahearne yet! He went back to flitting from circle to circle, eager to laugh and cheer with the other members of the Pact, occasionally crossing paths with his guildmates.

"So then I said 'Caoilfhionn, launch me!'" Annhilda said, and the circle of listeners about her burst out laughing uproariously.

"I can't believe that worked," Doern said admiringly.

"I haven't even told you what they all did yet!" Annhilda said, and gulped down more of her ale before continuing.

But Trahearne was nowhere to be found, and really he had partly expected that. But he had to be around somewhere. He wasn't at the memorial wall… Caoilfhionn slipped away from the noise and lights of the crowd, glad that he hadn't gotten too tipsy yet, back up the ramp to the airship dock. The battered frame of a smaller airship was docked there, and on its deck… yes, a familiar figure, gazing out at Orr under the moonlight.

He walked up beside Trahearne and slipped his hand into his. "I knew I'd find you up here… Hiding from the crowds again, beloved?"

Trahearne shook his head with a distant smile. "Not hiding, beloved… waiting for you."

"I'm here now."

"And thinking. Completing my Wyld Hunt lifted a weight from me, but Zhaitan was still a terrible threat. Now that threat is truly gone, it feels like the sun has finally emerged after a cold, endless night. I can't help but wonder… what's next? Now that we've formed this unstoppable alliance and tempered it in battle, where do we take it?

Caoilfhionn pressed closer to his side, leaning his head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "To the next challenge. The next victory. There are more Elder Dragons to confront… and now we know how. We know they can be defeated. But! First! We celebrate! We won, beloved – it would be a crime not to stop and appreciate that! And while I'd be perfectly happy to spend the rest of the night up here with you, most other people would be very disappointed, you know. Come, there's plenty of time to worry about the other dragons later." He began to steer Trahearne in the direction of the ramp.

Trahearne laughed and let himself be steered. "You're not wrong. Ah, but Caoilfhionn – a moment-" and Caoilfhionn found himself pinned against the curving glass viewport of the airship with Trahearne's mouth on his. He made a strangled gasp, relaxing wholly into the kiss, clinging to Trahearne like a lifeline. He changed his mind. He wanted to stay right here in this moment, forever…

"Come, my young prince," said Trahearne, teasing, pulling back just enough to see him. "Didn't you say they wanted to see us?"

"Y-yes," Caoifhionn said, slow to recover with Trahearne leaning over him like that, with that voice so low and alluring. "I suppose."

Trahearne grinned in triumph. "Not so quick to pull me away to parties now, are you? I should use that more often."

"Trahearne!"

"Forgive me, beloved; my heart is light as never before. Shall we?"

Caoilfhionn laughed. "Always, mine too, and let's."

They were met by Hope's Legacy and Destiny's Edge above the submarine docks, with wild cheering. "But I didn't do anything today," Trahearne said aside to Caoilfhionn.

"Never mind that," Caoilfhionn said. "Besides…"

"So when's the wedding!?" Damara shouted, beaming at them.

"..I think they're also still just excited about _us_ … Wedding!?" Caoilfhionn cried. "Err… actually…"

"Day before yesterday," said Trahearne bluntly.

"What!?" exclaimed everyone but Caithe, who simply smiled. "You can't have!" Damara exclaimed. "Where was the ceremony? Who were the witnesses? I need all the details!"

"Where was the drinking?" Annhilda put in.

Caoilfhionn scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "We… didn't have any of that?"

"Sylvari often pledge themselves to each other without so much as a witness," Trahearne said. "It is enough that we have pledged. And I was rather hoping to avoid making a public fuss over us?"

"It might be in good taste to have some sort of celebration," Eir said. "Humans, Norn, Asura all mark the occasion publicly in some fashion."

"Charr don't celebrate unions like the rest of you sentimental types, but we'll still come provide the barbecue," Rytlock said.

"As if we needed _another_ excuse to party," Zojja said. "But I'm down if the rest of you are."

"I'll… we'll consider it," Trahearne said faintly. "But in the meantime, shall we not endure the rest of _this_ party?"

Caoilfhionn laughed and looped an arm about Trahearne's waist. "You don't hate it that much."

"No, I don't, you're right. I hear music… shall we dance?"

Fireworks burst overhead, colouring the stars red and blue and green and gold. Caoilfhionn danced next to his lover, admiring his gracefulness, the look of absolute joy and abandon on his handsome face, and locked it all away in his memory to treasure forever. His eyes sparkled like never before; he couldn't stop smiling; his heart was too full for words.


	23. Meet the Family

23: Meet the Family

Annhilda returned to Hoelbrak a few days later, looking forward to boasting to her family and drinking with them until the dawn crept over the horizon. However, the moment she stepped foot through the Asura Gate everyone turned to look at her, and then point at her, and then rush towards her with cheers and shouts. "Annhilda! Annhilda! Slayer of Issormir and Zhaitan!" In very little time she was borne up on the shoulders of the flash mob and carried towards the Great Lodge with a cacophonous noise as they chanted her name and sang several conflicting songs at once.

"Raven's beak, I hope the others have an easier time of it," she muttered under her breath, but she suspected that they were not. Rhyoll might be all right, with the discipline of the Charr… and maybe Phiadi with her confident arrogance… but she could just imagine Damara buried under an avalanche of confetti in Divinity's Reach.

She saw Eir and Garm in the doorway of the Great Lodge and waved urgently at her. Eir gave her a rather sheepish smile. "Sorry, Annhilda! I couldn't resist spreading your legend early-"

Knut Whitebear, clearly having hurried down from his high seat, stepped past Eir, opening his arms in welcome. "Slayer of Zhaitan! Welcome home! What can we get for you? Are you here to break the Fang?"

"Spirits, no!" Annhilda tried to say, but she was overridden by a huge cheer from the crowd, who rushed forward into the hall. She kicked and struggled, suplexing the bear of a man carrying her. Now that she was on her own two feet, she managed to punch her way through the mob until she reached the edge, aiming for a side door where she could sneak out to the Raven Lodge. "Damn, I'm not nearly drunk enough for this…"

She could hear them chanting behind her. "Break the Fang! Break the Fang! Break the Fang!" She wondered with a chuckle how long it would take them to notice she'd escaped, and headed back out into the wintry cold. Ah, there was the Raven Lodge, with its beautiful sculptures out front. She stepped inside and brightened to see the familiar figure of Havroun Wiebe at the far end. She moved closer, intending to pay her respects to Raven and lay down the arm-length fragment of bone she'd recovered from Zhaitan as offering.

Havroun Wiebe heard her approach, turned, and smiled. "Hail, Annhilda, Slayer of Zhaitan! Are you going to break the Fang?"

Annhilda screamed in frustration.

* * *

Four weeks after Zhaitan's destruction, after an incredible amount of activity restructuring the Pact and drawing up an agenda for its continuance, the Pact Marshal took a weekend to return to the Grove for… personal reasons.

Caoilfhionn exited the Asura Gate and was assaulted by his close siblings – at least _he_ wasn't in danger of being mobbed this time, he'd already been through all that on previous visits. "My brother!" cried Ruadhan, seizing him by the shoulders. "Look at you! A Valiant and a hero, all grown up!"

"He certainly has not grown in stature at all," Eithne said, putting a hand on his head.

"You haven't been back in _so long_ , I thought you'd never pick up your next outfit," Blathnat said.

"Welcome home," Cathaoir said. "And to you, Firstborn."

Trahearne bowed to the four of them, a little shyly. "It is good to meet you. Caoilfhionn has often told me of you…"

"But Blathnat, I like this one," Caoilfhionn said, indicating his asymmetrical violet and floral garb. "It truly makes me feel like an Orchid Prince; I've scarcely worn anything else since you gave it to me-"

"Hush! You're coming to my arbour this instant so I can make sure the new one fits well on you!"

"Blathnat-" Caoilfhionn could not get another word out before his sister grabbed his arm and dragged him bodily away.

Trahearne watched them go. "Is… is she…"

"Always like that? Yes indeed," Ruadhan said. "Our Tulip Countess has a way about her. But never mind them. Only be thankful that she _probably_ won't insist you join them…"

"I must tell her how much I appreciate her work," Trahearne said. "Caoilfhionn has never been aught but splendidly dressed, no matter when I've seen him."

"She's simply happy to have a vict- sibling who fully appreciates her skills," Eithne said. "Would you like to come and eat with us while they're busy, Firstborn Trahearne?"

"Please, just Trahearne," he said, and followed them. How different they all were, for all that they were born on the same day as Caoilfhionn! It should not have been a surprise after all this time and yet he still often found wonder in it.

"We're all glad you and Caoilfhionn found each other," Cathaoir said, as they settled around a table at the tavern. "When he was hardly a month old, he wanted someone to fall in love with, he told me, from seeing his friend Tiachren's love."

Trahearne frowned. "Did not Tiachren lose his love?" Caithe had said something to him about it at the time, in a letter – the first time he'd heard of Caoilfhionn, actually.

"Aye, but Caoilfhionn is the worst romantic you ever met, even by our standards," Eithne said. "As I'm sure you've noticed. Even that wasn't enough to deter him." She gave him a stern look. "But don't think that gives you leave to do as Tiacren's love did!"

"Eithne, I hardly think Trahearne one to fall to Nightmare," Cathaoir said.

"No indeed," Trahearne said drily. "I've seen too many nightmares to wish to become one."

Perhaps that hadn't been the right thing to say, because their smiles were a bit awkward for a moment – but he was saved by Caoilfhionn returning, still tugging on the cuffs of – by the Pale Tree, he was gorgeous.

"It's incredible, truly!" he was saying. "You've outdone yourself."

"You say that every time," Blathnat said. "Though I think you're probably right. That embroidery took me _months_ , so you can expect I've enchanted it up a cuckoo's nest to protect it."

"I think this one ought to be more for special occasions, though," Caoilfhionn said, finally satisfied with his adjustments. "It's too resplendant for everyday, even for me." He turned and smiled at Trahearne, who had risen to his feet without knowing it. "What do you think?"

"I have no words," Trahearne said, staring. "It looks incredible on you." Exquisitely tailored violet patterned velvet and red silk were overlaid with the most intricate gold and silver threads; he really did look like human royalty. And this shining creature came to him and embraced him and kissed him.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, smiling sweetly.

He felt shabby next to him, in his ordinary garments of leaves that he'd worn all his life, and started to say so. "Caoilfhionn, should I-"

"No," Caoilfhionn said. "Unless you want to. I like you just as you are. I've always thought you were beautiful as you are, and your garb has always looked wonderful." And his sparkling coral eyes were so adoring, Trahearne found himself losing his heart to him all over again.

There was a cough, and they looked up to see Hope's Legacy arriving. "Good, we haven't missed anything," Annhilda said.

"Looking good, Caoilfhionn!" Damara said. "You've got yourself a nice catch, Marshal!"

"Mine's better," Caoilfhionn retorted, tightening his hold around Trahearne.

Trahearne felt his luminescence flush. "Whatever are you doing here? I thought I reduced your duties so you could go adventuring without concerning yourselves with Pact responsibilities?"

"You did indeed, and we're taking full advantage of that to follow you home and tease you in front of all your family," Phiadi said. Mabbran behind her rolled his eyes.

"It's tradition among Asura, anyway," Wegaff said.

"And Norn," Annhilda said.

"Definitely among Humans," Damara said.

"I came in case there was food," Rhyoll said.

"Just accept it," Caithe said, from another direction with Destiny's Edge. "Trahearne, you have been alone the longest of any of us. Now we want to wish you joy."

He wondered how hard that was for her to say; his closest sister, who had only known the joy of a good relationship for less than two years before it had turned on her, who still loved Faolain even as she was resolved to stop her cruelty, with death if necessary. "Thank you, Caithe."

"Is it possible for you to dress up any fancier, Caoilfhionn?" Rhyoll asked.

"Ask Blathnat," Caoilfhionn said, and Blathnat flushed with a pale blue hue under the scrutiny. "Ha! I didn't know you could be embarrassed, my sister!"

"Hush!" Blathnat protested. "H-he's a very good model, th-that's all!"

"You should go see Mother, and share your joy with her," Caithe urged them. "We'll be here when you come back."

He looked down at Caoilfhionn, at their firmly clasped hands. "Yes, let's," Caoilfhionn said.

"Fy gwawr fendigedig," Trahearne whispered to him, and saw his smile widen.

"Mo oíche álainn," Caoilfhionn said in return, and kissed him again.


	24. Honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I can't play LW1 myself it's a bit less inspiring. I watched the [3.3 hour 'movie'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d17gwV4vXOg&feature=youtu.be) on YouTube to get me up to speed! Reading the [summary on the wiki](https://wiki.guildwars2.com/wiki/Living_World_Season_1) also really helps bring home just how long it was spread out. It's basically a year and a half before LW2 starts up.
> 
> This part should be soundtracked with [Our Shangri-La](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u5bg13yo-zA) by Mark Knopfler (although I think I've used it for another couple? I can't remember who, though). I may have painted Southsun to be a bit more controlled than it really is… Exploring it alone as an elementalist is kind of torturous, and there isn't actually a romantic hot-spring grotto somewhere (but there _SHOULD BE_ ). Besides, with what's coming up, the boys need all the happiness they can get.

24: Honeymoon

Time passed, but hardly any of it was spent in idle contemplation. Caoilfhionn and the rest of Hope's Legacy traveled Tyria, helping anyone who asked for it and putting down evildoers. They'd met so many new people, including Braham, Eir's son, a passionate young Norn with a laugh almost as big as Rhyoll's, and Rox, a kind Charr ranger; both of them had become very close with the guild, and though neither had been formally invited or inducted, they were as much Caoilfhionn's companions as any of the others by this time. They were all pretty famous, and while not everyone was a fan of being recognized, Caoilfhionn thought it was nice.

And they'd been through fire together, in that year, encountering wickedness that rivaled the Nightmare Court's cruelty in the Molten Alliance – and he had thought the Flame Legion and dredge were bad separately. That wasn't even to speak of the greedy callousness of the Consortium and the chaos caused by the Secondborn Canach. But while he'd seen death and destruction to shock him to his core, he'd also seen kindness, and loyalty, and hope in fighting it.

Trahearne had been busy at Fort Trinity. With Zhaitan dead, and Orr's undead infestation slowly diminishing after several sweeps the Pact had made of the island, Pact forces had greatly scaled down, most of them returning to their Orders until the next Elder Dragon was chosen for destruction. There really was only a token force at Fort Trinity now, and most of it was Priory and Whispers doing research, with enough Vigil to put down the occasional Risen attack – or Inquest attack, the sinister Asura were making themselves a nuisance as the undead faded.

Caoilfhionn had visited often, and even went into Orr with Trahearne to see its progress as the waters of the Source brought the cleansing ritual throughout the land. Orr seemed a lot more silent than before, without the wailing of ghosts and zombies, but it was a peaceful silence now, and seagrass and lichens were beginning to grow on the western side of the island. Trahearne was pleased with it, doting protectively over every new patch of lichen and anthill, explaining why it seemed to be taking so long even now when the corruption was gone. Though the land had once known fertile soils, much of that had been taken away by the sea – swept along by currents, or transformed into coral and seaweed. A hundred years of rain had washed the ocean's salt out of the ground since rising, but the place was as barren as a desert; the only fertilizer it had known since it sank was corpses. Which, of course, Trahearne knew a _lot_ about, and in fact dabbled in 'gardening' with, summoning minions and disposing of them in places that would benefit the young plants.

It took a lot to tempt Trahearne away from Fort Trinity, but when the Consortium began advertising their 'perfectly safe tropical luxury resort', Caoilfhionn suggested very strongly that he take some time away from work and see Southsun Cove with him. Not that he trusted the Consortium, but he had liked Southsun, and was willing to give them one more chance. "You remember how I described it, do you not?"

"It sounds very beautiful, but…" Trahearne fidgeted with the gold ring with the sun emblem he'd begun to wear shortly after Zhaitan's death; Caoilfhionn had a silver ring with a moon emblem.

"Oh, come, see it for yourself! Things can take care of themselves for a little while. Elder Dragons take time to move; if an emergency occurs you can rush right back."

Trahearne was wavering, he could tell. "And I suppose your guild could do without you for a little while."

"Yes, definitely. Come with me, beloved – we've not had that much time to ourselves, all this year. I've been able to visit you, which I'm grateful for, but I want to _be_ with you. Just us, without a care in the world, just for a little while." Longer than an afternoon, anyway.

Trahearne breathed, and then nodded. "Very well. I'd like to spend time with you as well. Where doesn't matter, but I'll let you show me this place. I'm sure it's hardly as safe as they claim, knowing them, but the danger doesn't disturb me, not when I'm with you."

"Two heroes can scarcely be afraid of a few karka," Caoilfhionn teased. Though he hoped the karka situation really was under control; that had been what brought him to Southsun in the first place, after all, and he didn't like to think that his efforts had been in vain.

And so that spring, Caoilfhionn and Trahearne went to Southsun for three weeks. Three weeks to explore the island together, to show him everything he'd seen before and discover new things, and just be together? Southsun might not have been the paradise the Consortium said it was, but Caoilfhionn had never been more in heaven. Each day was long and golden, the nights filled with stars beyond count, and the waves crashing constantly on the shore was the perfect music for his soul. Even the querulous Human nobles who had come from Divinity's Reach to lounge about and be waited on hand and foot – as if that were any different for them than at home – couldn't bother him now. Besides the sleeping and dining accommodations, they had little to do with the other residents of the island, whether tourist or Consortium.

Simple things made him happy; lying on the beach, soaking in sunlight with a straw hat over his face to protect his eyes, feeling only the warm sand beneath him, the hot sun above him, the wind across his body, and Trahearne's hand in his. Or chasing each other through the shallows, until one of them caught up to the other and knocked them both into the cool water, splashing and laughing. Or actually putting on clothes and weapons for a little while and venturing up into the dangerous western side of the island, until they found a tiny grotto filled with hot springs where they lay naked tangled in each other's limbs for hours, talking of everything and nothing, learning each other's hearts and bodies. Or helping each other sluice off the salt and grime of the day before going to sleep in a tiny hut perched high above the ground, like a nest in a tree. He'd never seen Trahearne smile and laugh so much in his life, and Trahearne confessed he probably _hadn't_ smiled and laughed so much before. Real smiles, sincere laughter, that did not cause him to die of happiness like he had once feared, but still made all the weight of the world seem nearly non-existent in this time.

It wasn't completely idyllic… Even when they weren't deliberately looking for danger, danger still came for them unexpectedly. Such as the time they were temporarily defenseless and taken by surprise by karka on the beach near Kiel's Outpost. "What's that?" Caoilfhionn cried, pointing at a lump in the sand as they ran for their lives.

"Picnic basket," Trahearne said, and they both made a dash for it. "Maybe there will be something you can use…"

"Ahah!" Caoilfhionn had dumped it out onto the sand and snatched at a butter knife. "Better than nothing!" He twirled it and sparks flew. Just having something to cast with made him feel much better about their chances.

Trahearne shook his head and grabbed a stick of driftwood. "It will be enough. But I think discretion is the better part of valour in this situation…" He summoned several minions, placing them between them and the charging young karka.

"I don't disagree," Caoilfhionn said, and summoned a couple stone elementals – he didn't use them on a regular basis, but Wegaff was more or less satisfied with his ability to use them now, which meant he was quite good at it.

They used their summons' distraction to make an escape, but they had not gone far when a chittering behind them warned them that the karka had overwhelmed both minions and elementals and were hot on their heels again, rolling over the sand faster than they could run. "Up there!" Caoilfhionn shouted, pointing to a rocky outcropping. Trahearne changed course with him, but Caoilfhionn paused just long enough to slam a burst of energy into the ground, sending Earth crashing into the karka that pursued them, giving them an extra second to leap to the top of the rocks.

They stood back to back, watching the dozen or so karka swarm below them. "Well this is exciting," Trahearne commented mildly. "How long do you think before they figure out how to climb up here?"

"Not long," Caoilfhionn said, relishing in Trahearne's solidity behind him despite the danger. "I wonder if they make good eating? I've never actually tried one."

"Probably because their shells are too tough for anything but Deldrimor steel, and there's precious little of that around here," Trahearne said. "However, magic is another matter entirely. Are you ready?"

"When you are!"

"Then cower and despair, you crustaceans!" Trahearne raised his driftwood, concentrating, and gestured sharply, necromantic magic flowing around him, ripping life force away from the monsters that surrounded them. Now that he'd gotten a feel for his 'weapon', it seemed he had no trouble channeling the immense power inside him. The karka struggled, suddenly rooted to the ground, mindlessly confused about the skeletal hands that pulled them down, about the pain that wracked them within their shells.

Caoilfhionn looked up adoringly at his true love, so strong and commanding – and just a little bit sinister, but by the Tree he was all the more beautiful for it. But he couldn't admire for too long! He laughed and jumped down from the rock, hopping lightly across the backs of the karka while they were still confused. He tore a sparking channel through them, a leaf's breadth away from their claws, dodging the sticky goo they launched at him, spinning and ducking as fire and death wreathed him about, guarding him. These creatures might be impervious to regular steel, but he would see if they could withstand fire and lightning!

* * *

A few minutes later, they were seated on a pile of dead karka, as Caoilfhionn tried futilely to crack open a shell to see if he'd cooked the creature within adequately. They were just a little too old and tough for him to get into, even with Earth magic, but he was amused by the attempt, and Trahearne was, apparently, amused to watch him.

"Ho there!" came a cry, and they looked up the hill to see Consortium guards hurrying towards them with drawn weapons. "We're here to help…"

"Bit late, aren't you?" Trahearne chided them. "Where have you been?"

"We're very sorry, sir!" The lead guard, a Human, bowed low. "We only just got word of the attack. I am very pleased to see you're unhurt."

Caoilfhionn wondered if maybe it was a little bit unfair of them to cause the resort staff extra problems, but… they were Valiants, they could take responsibility for themselves. "I suppose it's forgivable," he said. "We _were_ a little beyond your patrols."

"By choice," Trahearne said.

"Well, all's well that ends well," Caoilfhionn said cheerfully, getting up and tossing the butter knife behind him and walking off in the direction of the settlement. "Don't suppose you have anything that can crack those shells? I want to try eating the one I cooked."

Trahearne dropped his driftwood and followed him. "We should get attacked by younger ones next time."

"But that means fighting the older ones to get at the younger ones… It sounds a bit wrong when I say it like that, doesn't it?"

The guard followed, and he could feel their awe.

* * *

Near the end of their trip, they were once again sunning on a remote beach when they heard noises in the distance and Caoilfhionn sat up to see… Annhilda, with Rhyoll, Phiadi, and some Lionguards, running along the top of the beach, shouting. Even Trahearne opened an eye to see what all the fuss was about. Caoilfhionn stood and waved cheerfully, and Annhilda split off from them to come over. "Hello! Fancy meeting you here!"

"I know, right?" Annhilda said with a grin. She was sweating, Norn metabolism in full armour and a tropical climate. "Enjoying yourselves? Nice sandcastle."

"Very much," Caoilfhionn said. "Thank you. Is there trouble afoot?"

"Nothing we can't handle," Annhilda said. "Problems with the refugees and the Consortium… and those blasted karka, as usual."

"Refugees?" Caoilfhionn said blankly. He really had been out of it, focused so entirely on his lover that he'd missed everything else in the world around him.

"Who were displaced by the Molten Alliance?" Annhilda said. "Anyway, it's complicated. Don't worry about it."

"Do you require any assistance?" Now he felt a little guilty for being so blissful while others suffered…

She shook her head. "No, you're not allowed to help. You're on vacation! As second-in-command of the Pact, I order you to keep having fun. Forgive the insubordination, Marshal."

"Forgiven," Trahearne said laconically, and closed his eyes again. "Carry on, Commander. Rest assured we are well."

Annhilda grinned. "Right! I'll see you in another week, right? Have a good time and then we'll get back to saving more bits of the world!"

"Good fortune!" Caoilfhionn wished her as she jogged away to catch up to her group. "Say hello to the others for me!"

When she had gone, he lay down again on his stomach and propped his chin on his hands.

"What troubles you?" Trahearne asked, opening his eyes again and looking over at him.

"I… feel… confused," Caoilfhionn said. "I'm not sure how to feel."

"About… the world going by as we lie here being idle?"

"Yes, exactly. I had honestly forgotten that it would. I feel a bit of a fool."

Trahearne sighed affectionately and reached up to his shoulder. "It's a blessing for you, isn't it? To focus on what is before you above all else. That is not a failing."

"But people need… or at least, could use my help. People right here within my reach whom I didn't even see. I want to be here with you more than anything, and yet is it not horribly selfish of me-?"

"Caoilfhionn," Trahearne said, and rolled over to put an arm around him. "You are a true knight, always thinking of others before yourself. You have been through as much hardship as any of those you would help. It is not selfish to take pleasure when it comes, to make space for it now and then, for hardship will always return. And believe me, I must convince myself of it too," he muttered. "Annhilda and the others are here to help these people, so in these circumstances, we may yet guiltlessly take our ease."

Caoilfhionn put his head on one side, still only half convinced. "I suppose…"

Trahearne poked him, tapping gentle rhythms along the sensitive peach-coloured veins in his back, making him squirm. "What good will it be if you upset yourself here? No better off than if you kept working this whole time, except you weren't working. You cannot change the past. And the world will have need of your mettle soon enough. I haven't forgotten what's out there, and far better you're – we're called to face it well-rested and with strong hearts. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He gave up the rest of his guilty feelings and pushed Trahearne back into the sand so he was leaning over him. "In that case, I'll give it my all to be happy here with you."

"Weren't you already?" Trahearne asked before Caoilfhionn kissed him.


	25. The Day the World Ended

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack you need for this one is [Twilight of the Gods](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5YGxMjywSk) from Fire Emblem Echoes.

25: The Day the World Ended

Their time in Southsun came to an end all too quickly, and Caoilfhionn left with a heart full of beautiful memories and a burning desire to never have anything to do with the Consortium again. Not that they'd been treated poorly personally – they were paying customers, after all – but learning later what Annhilda had learned about the refugees' abuse had been infuriating. The corporation hadn't deserved that second chance. They'd not be getting another from him.

Still, their vacation as a vacation had not been spoiled. He'd spent as much time with his lover as would fill his heart and mind with lovely thoughts for ages, and those memories were precious to him – he wouldn't let them be tainted by external corruption. Trahearne went back to Fort Trinity with more energy than he'd seen in him for some time, and Caoilfhionn rejoined Hope's Legacy in Lion's Arch, happy to see his friends again.

Though a few weeks later, he was able to call Trahearne out once more, for a day, to see Dragon Bash with him and celebrate the first anniversary of Zhaitan's demise. They wandered the city hand-in-hand, Caoilfhionn constantly keeping himself pleasantly tipsy at the frequent beer stalls, dancing whenever there was a minstrel handy to carry a tune – he loved festivals! At least, he loved it until the effigy exploded and killed two people. Then he sobered up quickly to help, though now it was Wegaff's turn to shine here, eagerly making himself of use as Marjory Delaqua's assistant and pinpointing the culprit with astonishing efficiency.

After the festival, he went with Wegaff to his lab. "You were brilliant, helping Marjory track down the murderer."

"Aye, well, it was progeny's play once you knew how to work the box. Almost boring, really. Still, watching you take on the Aetherblade base was… I still don't know how you do it. I can hold my own in the wild, but fighting coordinated adversaries like that…"

Caoilfhionn put his head on one side. Wegaff didn't normally compliment him this much unless he was about to ask a question, so…

"I want you to tell me how to do it."

Not exactly, a question, but- "I'd be happy to!"

It was not easy, having such an analytical pupil. "First of all, perhaps you should think less," Caoilfhionn suggested.

"But…"

"You don't think about breathing, do you? Or walking?"

"Actually breath is quite a fascinating topic…"

Caoilfhionn picked up a ball nearby, a toy for Damara's hound, and threw it at the Asura. "Catch!"

"Gah!" Wegaff cried, barely deflecting the ball from his face. "I was still thinking about breath!"

"The Risen wouldn't let you finish that thought either," Caoilfhionn said. "You may be able to calculate a stability matrix in two seconds, but two seconds isn't fast enough. So stop overthinking everything." He breathed, and sat cross-legged on the floor. "Let's start simple. Sit down with me, and close your eyes. Now, breathe in slowly, and deep, until your chest is filled with air. Don't think about why. Just slowly and evenly let all that air out, until it's all gone. Feel the air flow. And then breathe in again, just as before."

He opened one eye to check on Wegaff, only to find his friend missing. "…Wegaff?"

"Just a moment," came from another room. "I just had this brilliant idea on the importance of air pressure on biochemistry. Where's pen and paper when you need it?"

This was going to take more time than he'd thought. Caoilfhionn got up and went looking.

"Okay, done!" Wegaff cried triumphantly, just as Caoilfhionn found him. "I can work this out in more detail later. So, where were we?"

"While you're thinking about theory, I was curious about something myself," Caoilfhionn said, giving up any sort of structured exercise for the time being. "I was wondering, do you think it would be possible to wield two elements at once? To weave them together, in a sense."

Wegaff scoffed. "Ludicrous. The elemental pulse signatures would absolutely prevent that. The polarity interference alone would tear the spells apart before they could be cast. Not to mention I've never met a geokineticist who could channel their energy into two separate flux fields simultaneously. It's one or another, and anything else is reattuning – and you can't reattune that quickly."

"I wonder, though," Caoilfhionn said. "If you could separate your mind, your concentration – like a musician playing a lute, each hand doing a separate task – a couple spells might be possible."

"Even if you could do that, it'd never work in a combat scenario," Wegaff said. "And the logical conclusion – casting a spell with both elements at once – would be actually impossible."

"So you don't want to help me look into it?" Caoilfhionn asked, eyes dancing.

Wegaff raised an eye ridge at him. "I never said that. I just don't think you should get your hopes up."

"Understood. But let's talk more about it later, tomorrow perhaps. Come breathe with me now?"

* * *

Nearly a year later, Caoilfhionn was walking briskly through Lion's Arch with Damara, breathing in the sea breeze, enjoying the sunshine and the jollity of the centre of town, when a shadow crossed over the sun. A big one.

He looked up and a chill ran down his spine to see ominous crimson airships descending upon the city. "Damara!"

"By the Gods!" Damara cried. "Everyone, _get down!_ "

At first no one moved except to look in surprise at the screaming Human.

Then the airships opened fire.

Caoilfhionn and Damara had run for cover behind a nearby fountain, and a missile exploded in the building next to them, showering them in burning splinters. Now everyone screamed, and ran, though no one seemed to know which way to go.

Neither did Caoilfhionn. "That attack is upon us… and now what do we do?" he cried, drawing his daggers, though there was nothing to strike at.

"Get everyone out of the city!" Damara shouted back. "The civilians, anyway!"

"All right. Everyone, follow me-!" Caoilfhionn began to shout, and stopped as the ground began to buckle and burn nearby. "Get back!"

The burning pavement burst and a giant flaming figure burst out – and another, and another. They said nothing, only charged, roaring. One of them fell to an arrow from Damara, and her hound sprang upon another. Caoilfhionn charged, stone surging from his heels and crashing outwards, knocking them down. Heat and hostility was all around him, and he switched to lightning, shielding himself from them as he dashed back to Damara. "We need Annhilda!"

More missiles crashed into buildings, and he couldn't hear her answer. But she was pointing towards the gate into Gendarran Fields. " _Just go!_ " he made out over the deafening sounds, and she loosed another arrow.

He waved at the remaining civilians who had not yet fled, and ran with them towards the gate, dodging debris and Molten Alliance, smiting any enemy who got in their way with lightning, taking the hands of those who stumbled and helping them to stand. Everything was on fire, everything was exploding, and-

A deep rumble rippled through the ground and air, and he looked over his shoulder – and then wished he hadn't. A massive flying mechanical… thing was entering the harbour, a vast inverted cone with a huge drill on its underside. He shook his head hard, trying to stay focused, and grabbed a small Human child who had tripped, swinging her into his arms.

"Caoilfhionn!" There was Annhilda, and Rhyoll with her, holding a turret under his arm. "Keep doing what you're doing! I'm going to rally defenses!"

"Yes!"

The Lionguard at the gate were as terrified as any of them, but he was glad to see them as he delivered his civilians to them. "Get them to safety, I'm going back in!"

Lion's Arch was under attack! And was falling swiftly! He was still fighting shock, the urge to simply fall to his knees and watch with grief and horror – as he saw others doing. Asura, Humans, other Sylvari, he ran to anyone he saw staring and shook them, pointing them towards the gate. The Molten Alliance was running wildly through the city, killing anyone in their way who didn't fight back, and now he saw krait and Sylvari of the Toxic Alliance swarming in too. There were still too many civilians in here! Everything was chaos. His head was spinning. His last experience with real war, back on Orr, had not prepared him for _this_. By the Pale Tree, the Asura Gates had been destroyed. No one was escaping that way. What was Scarlet after!? Total annihilation!?

There was some resistance – pirates, drunken and not, who absolutely would _not_ sell their city at any price, there was the Lionguard, and those of the Vigil and Priory and Whispers. Though Scarlet's forces ran amok, heavily armed and armoured, killing whoever they could, they had no coordination. But neither did the defenders, not yet at least. And the longer they floundered, the more people they lost.

Caoilfhionn fought his way back to the centre of town, to the fountain where Annhilda was, red hair flying, battling a krait twice her size. Rhyoll was there with her, and so were Rox, Braham, and Phiadi. They were being pressed hard, yet the more enemies bogged down at their position, the safer it was elsewhere, wasn't it?

Caoilfhionn rode lightning to the giant krait and lashed it with Air magic until Annhilda stabbed it through the gut. "What's happening?" he asked in the half-second of breathing room they had. "Where are the others?"

"I know Damara, Marjory, and Kasmeer are somewhere to the east. Wegaff, I don't know."

"By the Tree-" He checked himself. This wasn't the time to interrupt.

"Captain Magnus and Ellen are over to the west. We're not going to hold this position for much longer. How many civilians are left?"

"I don't know, the destruction is too great. Still too many. I'll keep looking."

"No!" Annhilda stopped him. "I'll get Braham and Rox to do it. I need you to check on Fort Marriner. You're fast, they won't catch you."

"Yes, guild leader!" Caoilfhionn saluted her and dashed southwards – the bridge had been destroyed! It was not surprising but it was one more thing that hadn't yet registered through his shock.

No time to worry, only to dive into the water from the broken edge and evade the krait, carving his way across the channel to the walls of the fortress. It had largely been left untouched so far – why assault a fortified position when the soft belly of the city was right there for the taking? The gate was even open, and he ran in. "Is there any way I can help!?"

"Caoilfhionn of Hope's Legacy," exclaimed the Asura captain, Shud, from the midst of a crowd of frightened citizens making their way through the Asura Gate that led to Vigil Keep. She made her way to the edge of the group to speak with him better, and pointed at the gate. "We're taking these civilians to the Vigil Keep-"

Evon Gnashblade stomped past them with a train of dolyaks. "Get outta my way, runt. I gotta get merchandise through that gate."

Shud glared at him. "Hurry it up, Evon. I have citizens here who need this gate." The dolyaks were large, and slow; no civilians could make it through while he took up the space. "Evon, move your dolyaks. I need to get these people out of the city and shut down the gate."

Evon snorted. "What? That's your problem? Don't worry, Shud. I got you covered." He stepped through the gate, and before anyone else could walk into it, it flickered and ceased to glow.

Shud cried out in outrage. "That greedy…! How did he shut down the gate? Never mind. Get to the city exits!"

"I'll go with you!" Caoilfhionn cried, though his sap was boiling over. How dare he-! How could he be so spiteful-! If _any_ of these people died because of him-! He must have broken the gate, for the Vigil would have turned it back on as soon as they noticed… Or he'd probably fed them a lie that the enemy were right behind him. That was more likely.

If he saw Evon Gnashblade alive, he would strike him with his hand and call him an honourless coward to his face. Which probably wouldn't work on a Charr… but killing him was probably not an option right now.

He escorted the civilians beyond the southern hills to Bloodtide Coast, then hurried back. The fortress was still intact, but it wasn't going to be much use as a staging ground, not with the bridge down. The sky was turning black with smoke, black as night, but night never caught in his lungs like this. Annhilda and her team had withdrawn from the fountain square, the Lion Fountain fallen and smashed to bits – and that grieved him as much as the loss of life.

He tried to find civilians, but there was no one alive here now besides dredge and Charr and Sylvari and krait, and he couldn't fight an army alone. The corpses sprawled through the streets, the gathering pools of blood, sickened him. He could hardly look, but he had to – what if he saw someone he knew? He had to find Wegaff and make sure he was safe! His steps turned in the direction of the guild hall, quickly and quietly, trying to avoid detection.

He cried out in sorrow when he saw it – it had been struck full on by a missile, and was now a heap of rubble, of twisted wooden planks and broken glass. "Wegaff! Wegaff, are you in there!?" He couldn't help calling out, hoping, hoping…

A bit of rubble was shifting! He sprang towards it, wrenching boards away, heedless of how his hands bled, of how his shoulders protested – yes, Wegaff was under there! "I'm getting you out! Hold on!"

"Cauliflower… you silly… blueberry…" Wegaff's voice was faint, but he could hear it. He grabbed the edge of a wall and lifted, straining his whole being. "Why are you not… using an Earth G.U.E.N., you… idiot?"

Ah, he was right! Though he didn't want to crush Wegaff by accident. With the golem to lift the wall for him, he could reach down and gather up Wegaff in his arms. "Are you badly hurt?"

"Not as bad… as I could have been," Wegaff whispered. "Managed to… put on stone armour. Like you… showed me."

"All right, we're getting out of here," Caoilfhionn said. "Hold on, you'll be safe soon-"

A clockwork machine dropped in front of him and he almost screamed. This was too much! No, he had to keep it together. He was a Valiant, a knight! He had to fight for those relying on him! Trahearne would do no less, even in the face of these overwhelming odds.

There was no more time to think, only to move or die. He took to Air and darted past the clockwork abomination, sprinting for the gate. The city was truly lost. Nothing friendly or peaceful yet lived within its bounds, and all else was burning, burning…

And then he inhaled, choked, and almost stumbled to his knees, coughing. What was this!? Poison? Wegaff was coughing too. He couldn't run if he couldn't breathe! He heard the clockwork monster clattering up behind him and staggered on, choking, eyes blinded by tears of pain, expecting any moment to get slashed in two. The gate was close, and-

A rifle shot rang out, and the clockwork monster flinched. "Caoilfhionn! Wegaff!" Annhilda was there, picking both of them up in her strong arms and taking them to the gate, past Rhyoll reloading, though she too was coughing in spite of the underwater breather mask she'd put on. "Get out, this miasma is going to poison everything."

"And you…?" Caoilfhionn managed, as she deposited him on the bridge out of the city.

"Just a couple more minutes," she said. "Get to camp! There are medics there!"

"Yes," he said, though he could feel his body growing numb to his commands. But he could still walk, and walk he did northwards, in the direction of the growing camp of white tents. Everything was a daze now, a weary shambling march punctuated by shallow coughs. Wegaff was limp and heavy in his arms. He hardly knew what was happening by the time Lionguard medics swarmed him, taking Wegaff gently from him, giving him something to drink, wrapping him in a blanket and sitting him down by a fire.

He stared blankly into the fire, he didn't know how long. Those horrific images he'd witnessed were burned into his mind, and all he could do was see them, again and again, until he heard someone large sit down near him.

"How are you doing?" he heard Braham ask. "You look terrible."

"Everything's gone," he murmured dully. "Everything."

"Not everything," Braham said. "We're still here."

"Not everyone," he said. "So many died…"

"It's like when Cragstead got attacked… but so much worse," Braham agreed. "How old are you again?"

In this moment, could he even remember a single-digit number? "Three summers, or near enough…"

Braham nodded in understanding. "No wonder you're in shock." He felt a large hand pat him on the shoulder. "Hang in there. I know it's rough. Hi, Captain Kiel!"

"Braham, Caoilfhionn." Ellen greeted them, squatting down by their fire to speak, but she seemed busy. "Annhilda told me you went to Fort Marriner, what was the situation there?"

"Quiet," Caoilfhionn said. He couldn't look up, but he could talk. "Captain Shud was helping civilians through the portal – until Evon Gnashblade shut it down."

"He did what!?" Ellen exclaimed. "Oh, that… Hmph. So he's at the Vigil Keep now, is he?"

"Yes, I think so. He had several dolyaks of merchandise. If I see him again it will be too soon."

"I agree with you, but unfortunately, he's not stupid; he'll be around for a while yet. What did you do after that?"

"I helped escort the civilians to Bloodtide Coast, but there was still no significant pressure on the fort when I returned. I don't know what the miasma will have done to it, though…"

"Thank you, that's very helpful," Ellen said. "Get some rest. I have to send someone up to the Keep…"

"What for?" Braham asked.

Ellen chuckled darkly. "Going to use some emergency powers to conscript Gnashblade into pulling his weight. He'll have no choice but to give us his wares… or be executed."

"Damn." Braham sounded impressed, and Caoilfhionn was too, turning his eyes up to her in astonishment. "He deserves getting roped in."

"He'll whine and complain, but we'll get what we need to fight Scarlet, and take care of everyone, and I don't care if he hates me more than he already does."

"You're amazing, Ellen," Caoilfhionn said. "I wish I could see his reaction."

"Me too, but there's too much to do here. All right, take care of yourselves. Rest up, because as soon as that miasma blows out to sea, we're heading back in there. We still don't know what that drill thing is doing, and I don't like it."


	26. Set in Motion

26: Set In Motion

It was days before the miasma blew away, but there was no time to wait idly. Each day, they sortied into the city, looking for survivors, trying to beat back the hostiles who had set up camps mostly away from the miasma themselves – though the krait didn't seem to care. Each day, they lost so many fighters, to the enemy, to the gas. The city was in a horrific state. It was still partly burning, four days later when the air finally cleared enough for the united Lion's Arch forces to begin their main assault. The destruction was near-absolute. But they were still going to take it back.

"Remember," Annhilda said to those who followed her. "Scarlet doesn't have _that_ many forces. We won against her before, time and time again, destroying her resources and scattering her followers. She only drove us out because she took us by surprise – and because of that damned miasma. Without it, we far outnumber them, and we can outfight them, too!"

" _Yeah!_ " a cheer went up from the crowd, determined, angry.

"So let's get in there and remind her who she's dealing with!" Annhilda yelled, stabbing her sword into the air, and they all roared.

Annhilda turned to Hope's Legacy, with the addition of Ellen and some of her Lionguard, Phiadi's Pale Reaver friend Mabbran, and a small golem for some reason. "And _we're_ going to fight our way to the Breachmaker, and put this troublemaker down once and for all."

"You got it," Braham said.

The plan had been thoroughly hammered together. The pirates, Lionguard, and Order forces would charge in from the north, and some from the south from Bloodtide, spreading through the streets like water through empty streambeds, relieving the 14th Lionguard from their desperate foothold in Trader's Forum and sweeping all hostiles before them into the cliffs to the east and west, where they would have no room to run. The dredge might have been an issue with their burrowing abilities, but several Priory Asura assured leadership that they would not be a problem, Wegaff among them. He'd recovered enough to join a research team, though not enough to fight.

Caoilfhionn kept his eyes from wandering as they ran into the ruined city, as they crashed into enemy lines, as they broke through and fought one of Scarlet's giant clockwork dolls. All that mattered was breaking the enemy. Anything else was a distraction. For once, he wished he could feel _less_ , afraid that his will to fight would be overwhelmed. Even after four days, he was still not numb to it.

They made it onto the Breachmaker, somehow, and there the fight truly began. In pairs and small groups, their team fragmented; Ellen was wounded, and half the others stayed back to defend against the Aetherblade pirates trying to stop them. In the end, it was only Annhilda, Braham, Rox, Marjory, Kasmeer, and Caoilfhionn who made it down to the lowest levels of the machine, looking for their now-injured opponent. "Keep it together, pup," Annhilda muttered to him. "We're not done yet."

"I'm fine," he said. He was lying, but he'd be able to see this through.

They found her in some kind of control room, hot and dark and full of sinister blinking lights. It was all alien to Caoilfhionn, far stranger than any Asuran contraption he'd ever seen. And she'd designed this? How was it possible for any one person to think this up? But there she was, lying on the floor behind a wavering force field, holding her side in pain. Her crimson longcoat was stained brown with yellow sap, and her impish face twisted in pain.

"Just look at you," Scarlet said, panting, raising herself to one elbow to glare at them. "All you… _heroes_. And here, at the centre, little ol' me. Aren't you even curious about why I did it? All this chaos and destruction?"

"Not particularly," Annhilda said.

"It doesn't matter now," Braham said, taking a step forward. "You're done."

"Wrong," Scarlet's voice rang out. "Tyria will bow before a new master."

"No," Rox said. "We'll stand together against any enemy."

Braham thumped his fist into his palm. "Yeah! We're Tyrians. We don't like getting pushed around."

Scarlet laughed, one of her insane giggles that turned into pained coughs. "So… what now? You big, strong heroes going to take me to jail?"

"Something like that," Marjory said, and started forward, drawing her weapons.

"Jory, be careful!" Kasmeer cried.

"I'll do something, all right," Marjory said in a low voice. "I'll end this for good."

Scarlet managed a grimacing smirk. "That's it. Come and get me… if you dare!" She pushed a button on her belt, and her shield exploded outwards, flinging back both Marjory and Braham. Caoilfhionn covered his face against the flash of light and let himself flow along with the energy, knocked back but without slamming into anything.

He was one of the lucky ones, he saw as he recovered his footing and his bearings. Braham had been flung back much farther. "Braham, your leg!" Rox cried, kneeling beside him.

But then Caoilfhionn saw a still figure in black, and gasped. Kasmeer wailed. "Jory? Jory!" She hiccoughed, her hands shaking as she shook Marjory's shoulder.

"Don't move her," Annhilda rasped, staggering up, bleeding from her head.

"Oh, sweet Dwayna, help her. She's not…" Kasmeer trailed off into hiccoughing tears, then suddenly launched herself at Scarlet, seizing her staff and raising it high as she ran. "You _monster!_ "

Caoilfhionn ran after her, drawing his daggers, feeling her bereft rage wash over him, joined by his own wrath. Annhilda was behind him, but they were stopped by Scarlet hurling several small objects at them – grenades! He ducked, and Kasmeer threw up a shield just in time to not get scorched. But there were more, and more, and yet _more_ – how many did she have, hidden around her person? He couldn't get close like this.

"You're ruining _everything_!" Scarlet shrieked, hurling even more grenades at them. "Why can't you just leave me _alone_!?" How he hated her strident voice!

"You're the one who chose to mess with us!" Annhilda yelled back. "Lunatic!"

"Get back!" Another wave of grenades. "This is my drill! _Mine!_ I'll take you all down with me if I have to."

"You shan't take another life!" Caoilfhionn cried, skidding forward, but he just slammed into her shield and rebounded.

"I hate you," Scarlet growled. "Hate you. Hate you! You can't get through my shield. I will finish what I started here. I will!"

"I'll keep her occupied," Kasmeer said from beside him; tears were still running down her cheeks, and her voice quavered as she gritted her teeth, but she was there, brandishing her staff. "You get in there and… do what needs to be done." She twirled her staff, and instantly conjured multiple duplicates of herself, all surrounding Scarlet. "I'm over here!"

Scarlet coughed a snicker. "Oh, princess…es. I'll kill every last one of you."

"Ceara!" a different Kasmeer called, tauntingly as the first one vanished in a grenade blast with a burst of purple sparkles. "Ceara… Ceara, Ceara!"

"That's not my name!" Scarlet hissed.

"What's the matter, Ceara?" Another Kasmeer spun, summoning mesmeric missiles that bounced off Scarlet's shield.

"Stop calling me that! It's not my name!" Scarlet screamed in frustration, and flung something that detonated with an especially large blast – Caoilfhionn couldn't see what it was before he was flung head over heels into the railing, dropping one of his daggers with the impact.

Kasmeer was sobbing with rage as she climbed back to her feet. "Make it count! End this! _Now!_ "

"Do it, Caoilfhionn!" Annhilda cried, knocked even further back.

"If you can!" Scarlet hissed. "You're just Trahearne's boy-toy – you can't do anything on your own!"

He sprinted for her. "For the honour of my people!"

She reached back to throw another grenade; her shield dropped for the barest instant as she hurled it; he lunged forward, past the grenade, tackling her. They rolled over together, but he ended up on top, raised his dagger with both hands, and plunged it into her chest, through leather, flesh, and wooden bone.

Scarlet coughed, tears coming into her eyes, but her face split in a maniacal grin. "This isn't how it was supposed to go… You fools! You think my death… saves you? Too… late…"

On the other side of the room, to his right, a screen lit up with a blue glow – in an instant, he saw what it was depicting. The drill had struck… something. A thunderous rumble shook the entire structure and he was almost knocked sideways. There seemed to be almost a howl in it, a distant roar that made his head twinge strangely for a moment. Scarlet lay still beneath him, still grinning dementedly in death. He yanked his dagger free, gave Kasmeer a hand up, then ran to grab his other dagger before it was knocked into the bowels of the machine.

"Kas!" Rox called. "Get over here, quick!"

"Jory!" Kasmeer rushed off, with another hiccough. "Oh Gods, are you okay?" She flung herself to her knees beside her lover and pulled her carefully into her arms. Marjory blinked, just a little. Her face was swollen, scraped, and bruised, but as she turned her head to look up at Kasmeer, Kasmeer pulled her in and kissed her warmly. "Jory! Oh, Jory, I thought you were… I thought…"

Marjory smiled painfully at her. "Hush, love. I'm okay. Rox worked some battlefield magic on me. It's okay, honey. I'm going to be okay."

Caoilfhionn melted into a smile, the first real smile he'd had in some time. Love was so beautiful!

"Guess it's a good thing you stayed behind, huh?" Braham said, grunting as he tried to stand, futilely – his leg was still broken, and unsplinted. But there wasn't anything handy to splint it with, and Marjory's life surely took precedence.

"Definitely a good thing, my friend," Rox said, patting him on the head. "Definitely a good thing. All right, hero," she said, turning to Kasmeer. "That's enough cuddling for now. We'd better report this to Magnus. I bet everyone on the ground could use some good news-"

The drill had been making strange noises since it had struck its target, and alarms had been going off in the distance, but now the entire machine began to thrash, violently, like it was going to shake itself apart.

"Ah, yak spit!" Braham complained. Annhilda grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet; Rox took his other side. He groaned in pain. "We better get out of here before the whole place comes down!"

Magic was going haywire around them, swirling around the central engine of the huge machine – when it lost control, it was going to spread itself across half the city. "I'll clear the way!" They had to make it back to that portal that they'd come in by before it blew!

Phiadi and Damara met them next. "Did you get her?" Phiadi demanded, sitting on the back of an especially large flesh golem.

"Of course we did!" Annhilda grunted. "Any hostiles left?"

"You better believe there aren't," Phiadi said. "Come on – I sent Mabs and Rhyoll to the exit as soon as the Aetherblades stopped being in our way."

They could barely keep their footing as they ran, and all about them, pieces of the machine were collapsing, tearing free from their supports and tumbling down, down, down to the bay far below. Caoilfhionn could see the water, distantly, crashing white around the drill, a blue-green glow throbbing from deep below the sea.

They made it to the portal and activated it, just as fire engulfed the entire platform.

Disoriented, they appeared on the beach – with fire and steel hurtling towards them. They ducked as a metal plate the size of Fort Marriner's main gates came whizzing over their heads, but after a moment or two, it became apparent that no more debris was going to fall on them. They were safe.

Mabbran and Rhyoll approached them. "You took your time!" Rhyoll boomed. "Looking around much?"

"Glad you made it out, _Pie_ ," Mabbran said to Phiadi, stressing the nickname with as much disgruntlement as he ever did. It had taken Caoilfhionn much observation, in the very small number of times he saw Mabbran, to realize that he did not like being called 'Mab' or 'Mabs', but Phiadi apparently didn't notice that 'Pie' was a retaliation and not an endearment.

"We didn't look at anything," Kasmeer said, supporting Marjory as her lover sank to the sand in wounded exhaustion. "But we did it! We defeated Scarlet! …And I think she accomplished her goal anyway."

"I'll take 'defeated Scarlet' any day," Rhyoll said. "We can worry about what she was up to later, after we get a chance to look at the remains of her machine, hahaha!"

"I think we all need some food, some ale, and some medics," Annhilda said. "Let's see what I can swing for us heroes."

* * *

The city was still in ruins, terribly depressing ruins, even though the smoke had cleared and the sun shone full again. Everyone was working together to help start picking the place up, though it was such an immense task, Caoilfhionn had no idea where to begin. Thousands had died, and needed burial. Not one structure was left untouched, though a few on the edges of town had escaped complete destruction. And tourists were already coming to stare, and even looters – despicable people. And Evon Gnashblade was still around, strutting like a peacock and acting like he was owed something.

Only a day after it was all over, while they were in the remains of Fort Marriner – leveled by the destruction of the Breachmaker, if not the attacking forces – a small airship landed nearby, and from it emerged Laranthir of the Wild. He saluted them as he approached Annhilda. "Commander! I wasn't surprised to hear that you had dispatched that horrid Scarlet. It seems only yesterday you led us to victory over Zhaitan."

"Thanks, but Caoilfhionn's the one who really ended her," Annhilda said.

Laranthir turned to him and shook his hand firmly. "Well done, Caoilfhionn. Trahearne will be very proud. And I'll be proud to bring the news to him."

"Why is this Pact ship here?" Annhilda said. "Trahearne's got few enough people at Fort Trinity as it is."

"When I heard there was some connection between Scarlet and dragons, I went down and petitioned to bring one ship to survey the issue."

"But there are no dragons here," Rhyoll said.

"Exactly why it took everything I had to convince Trahearne to spare _one_ ship. Protecting cities from deviants isn't our mission. But there are rumours that a dragon is involved."

"What do you mean?" Caoilfhionn asked anxiously.

"Priory scholars are saying Scarlet's drill breached a ley line in order to rouse an Elder Dragon. If this is true…" Laranthir took a grim breath. "…then we face a possible larger threat from her meddling."

Phiadi swore. "That's going to accelerate our plans, isn't it?"

"We'll have to see," Laranthir said. "We still hardly know which dragon was her target-"

A sobbing woman stumbled up to them. "Warmaster! Why weren't you here? Why didn't the Pact help save Lion's Arch?"

"I was here, representing the Vigil," Laranthir said gently, taking the woman's hands. "Look around you – the Pact may not have been here in name, but the Vigil was here, the Priory, the Order of Whispers. We were with you-"

"But the Pact! The Pact is supposed to save people!"

"The Pact is supposed to fight Elder Dragons," Annhilda said, less gently. "The Pact is there when all of Tyria must come together as one. But it's only people. The people were here."

Damara put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry we couldn't save everyone. We really tried. Who is it you lost?"

"M-my son… He died to those dreadful krait. Oh…" She burst out weeping again and stumbled away, consumed by her grief.

"There are too many like her," Damara said. "Thank Dwayna none of us died."

"Were any in your guild injured?" Laranthir asked, looking around. "They are not all here, are they?"

"Braham and Marjory had pretty severe injuries from fighting Scarlet," Annhilda said. "Wegaff got caught in the initial attack. Everyone has at least a few bruises."

"Yes, Annhilda probably should be resting, herself," Damara said, "but she's too stubborn."

"She won't have a choice in a minute," said a new voice, and they turned to see Ellen Kiel approaching them, her arm in a sling. "Hello, Warmaster Laranthir. Annhilda, I told you to get some rest!"

"I don't _need_ rest!" Annhilda whined. "It's a scratch!"

"An impact head wound isn't a scratch!" Ellen told her. "The rest of your guild is already on the road to Divinity's Reach. I want you all to join them."

"But-!"

"No buts! You need to rest, but you can't do that here, we don't have the facilities. Divinity's Reach does. You already killed Scarlet and stopped the attack. What more do you want?"

"Why aren't _you_ resting?" Phiadi retorted.

"I'm on the Captain's Council, and I didn't get hit in the head. I can still strategize with the others. Go on. You're all heroes. You don't have to do anything else."

"You really should," Laranthir urged them. "Go spend time with your friends. They'll be waiting for you. Leave this to us."

Annhilda sighed. "But why all the way to Divinity's Reach?"

"Because," Damara said with a hand on her shoulder and her voice in a whisper, "There's this monastery on the way, you see. With a _brewery_."

Annhilda perked up. "Right! That place! That's my kind of medicine!"

* * *

The Dead End bar was dim and cozy as always; it was open for business but there were only two or three people besides Hope's Legacy inside. They laughed, and they drank, and celebrated survival.

Though Taimi had somehow pieced together as much as the Whispers agent in their group. "I suppose we should celebrate while we still can…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rox said.

"Nothing!" Taimi said with a very fake innocence.

"C'mon, kid," Braham said. "What are you talking about?"

"You know, don't you?" Taimi pointed at Phiadi. "Scarlet wasn't just fooling around."

"Well of course not," Phiadi said. "Even crazy people have purposes. Their purposes just don't make logical sense."

"You know something? Tell us!" Kasmeer cried.

"We're all ears," Rhyoll said. "Some of us more than others."

"You do have an unfair advantage for ears, honey," Marjory said to him.

"I think all of Tyria heard that dragon's cry," Phiadi said. "That was her plan all along. She was trying to wake one up, and it seems like she succeeded."

"Which one do you think it was?" Kasmeer asked. "Primordus? Kralkatorrik? Jormag? Do you think one is sleeping beneath Lion's Arch?"

"No, we discussed that," Phiadi said impatiently, ignoring the fact that Kasmeer hadn't been there when they discussed it. "She wanted to poke the ley lines where they were strongest, because they feed the dragons, no matter where they are in the world."

"I don't get it," Braham said.

"The dragons consume magic," Caoilfhionn said. "The ley lines are currents in an ocean of magic."

"And Scarlet threw a giant rock in that pool, sending ripples out to the dragon. Spirits help us," Annhilda said. "I expect Trahearne will start getting the band back together in short order. And I was enjoying not being Commander…"

"Speak for yourself," Phiadi said. "I can't wait to boss around some peons."

"Your krewe not doing it for you?" Rox asked. "I thought you were fond of that Human who begged to join you… The 'tall dark handsome' one?"

"Sure, he's smarter than he looks, and a competent krewe is fabulous, but I was born to rule more than that."

"I'm fine either way," Damara said easily. "Besides, we have to figure out which dragon's waking up first."

"Oh, by the way, I personally reported your victory over Scarlet to Logan Thackeray," Marjory said to Damara. "He sends his regards."

"That was kind of you," Damara said happily. "Thank you."

Marjory shrugged. "It was purely selfish. For the first time in my life, I actually feel sincere when I brag about the people I fight beside. But then he went on for some time about how impressed he is with your progress and how he 'knew you when'. I thought, for a second, I'd have to hand him my handkerchief."

Damara laughed delightedly. "For all his tough talk, he's a big softy inside."

Marjory snickered. "Don't let him hear you say that. He'll be scarred for life."

"Dwayna preserve us," Damara agreed.

"I bet you're wondering why Frostbite and I are hiding out in a human bar in a human city," Rox said to Caoilfhionn, who was blithely sipping wine next to her.

"Not really," he said. "I'm here too?"

Rox's gaze strayed to her pet, quietly nibbling scraps of chicken beside her. "Well, since you asked, Frostbite is afraid to report to Rytlock. Since we didn't actually help kill Scarlet, exactly. I've been ignoring his summons."

"Why are you afraid?" Caoilfhionn was confused. He vaguely remembered something about Rox being ordered to kill Scarlet, but- "Surely he'll understand." Rox had saved Marjory's life. She might not have struck the killing blow, but without her, it would have been much more difficult.

Rox shifted uncomfortably. "It's a Charr thing. Technically, he could gut me for disobeying an order."

Caoilfhionn gasped. "What? You mean… er… court-martial, right?"

"No," Rox said, dejected. "I mean it's within his rights to kill me on the spot for disobeying his direct order."

"You fought your way to Scarlet's doorstep, to save our injured friends."

"Yeah, I wish that counted for something. But… the truth is… when I chose to stay with Braham, I knew then that I didn't want to be in the Stone warband."

Caoilfhionn gasped again, with joy this time. "You don't?"

Rox managed a little smile. "I'd much rather hang out with you guys. Braham was right. I'm giving up a big dream of mine. But I'd be giving up even more if I left you people."

"Aww!" Caoilfhionn threw his arms around Rox and gave her a hug. "I'm so happy you're going to stay. And if Rytlock wants to harm you, he'll have to go through me, first."

Rox chuckled and patted him on the back. "Even a few months ago, I might have said that would be easy for him. But you're tougher than you look."

Caoilfhionn grinned. "'Tis a knight's duty to be strong as an oak, even if they look like… well, an orchid."

"An Orchid _Prince_ ," Damara put in. "He's no ordinary knight – not that princes are any stronger than knights except in fairytales."

"A toast to him anyway," Annhilda said. "To the fancy plant-wolf-pup who slew a raving lunatic!"

"To Caoilfhionn!" the others cried, and Caoilfhionn blushed and laughed at their attentions.


	27. A Leader Will Die

27: A Leader Will Die

Taimi was in a good mood as she puttered about Scarlet's student room, rushing from object to object as quickly as her body would let her. "Do you realize the historical significance of this whole find?" She picked up a gear, turned it over rapidly, put it down and flipped through a pile of notebooks beside it. "Not to mention the salvage rights. I'll be writing papers, treatises, and dissertations on this until I'm eighty!"

"I don't understand the thrill," Caoilfhionn said, smiling at her excitement. The others had gone out to look for someone who could tell them what Scarlet was doing _here_ particularly, but he'd lingered, interested in her work for his own sake. She'd been insane, but she'd been Sylvari, and she'd had incredible insights into magical theory even in her insanity – those two things drew him, even if unwillingly, to be curious. But not as much as Taimi, with her obsession.

"Well, no," Taimi said, as if she _would_ be smug but she didn't have time. "Of course you wouldn't. Being… you. But for an Asura, this is the find of a lifetime."

He knelt down next to her. "All I ask is that you handle it with a gentle heart."

She gave him a scornful look. "Whatever does _that_ mean? My heart has nothing to do with it. I will apply my mind."

"I mean be sympathetic. She was a person, like you." Not a research object. From what he saw, young Ceara had not been necessarily evil, or insane, just… wilful. And incredibly selfish, but… She deserved respect for who she had been, before. And compassion, for what she had lost.

Taimi looked at him again, and this time it was unwontedly serious. "No. She was a person like _you_. If she had been born Asura, with a strong Asuran mind, she might not have fallen into madness. But she was Sylvari, and therefore… prone to listening to her heart."

What could he say to that?

* * *

Hope's Legacy appeared around the Prosperity Waypoint, ready for action. Braham had sent Annhilda a note after two weeks of silence, saying there'd been trouble, and Annhilda had grabbed whoever was near her – Rhyoll, Wegaff, and Caoilfhionn, and dragged them out of the giant construction yard that was Lion's Arch at present and to the nearest waypoint. Braham was waiting for them. "Good, you got my pigeon. It looks pretty bad. We gotta check on Taimi."

"When did this happen?" Annhilda said, and they all stared at Prosperity in horror.

"I'm going to say early this morning," Braham said grimly. "I got a note from one of the Zephyrites a few hours ago, and I passed it on as soon as I did. Took me all this time to get here, myself. Come on, let's go in."

Caoilfhionn could barely force his feet to move. It was not the first time he'd seen those vines, and nothing could ever compare to seeing Lion's Arch destroyed, but he hadn't expected this. He was angry with himself – he felt like he should not be so stunned, that he should have seen enough horrors that nothing should phase him again, and yet!

Huge green vines, with fat thorns the length of his arm, had burst through the town, through the solid rock of the cliffs, pulverizing stone buildings, tearing apart wooden scaffoldings. Worse, half the villagers had been killed – crushed in the coils of the vines, strangled, impaled upon thorns. The survivors were wandering in shock, some weeping, others staring blankly. The vines curled in the breeze, but they did not appear active – and yet their very presence was an imminent threat.

"Spirits," Annhilda said in a low voice. "This is awful. Taimi!"

They dashed to the building Taimi had been studying in, and saw Scruffy in the corner, closed and still. "Taimi!" Braham shouted. "Are you here?"

"I'm here," Taimi's voice came quavering out of the golem. "I'm okay. Scruffy protected me. Are you all okay?"

"Phew," Braham said, trying to laugh off his anxiety. "Yeah, we're okay too."

"What happened?" Rhyoll said, looking at the ceiling, where a corner of the building had been crumbled away.

"Everything started to shake," Taimi said, popping the cover of her golem and peeking out. "I barely had time to get into Scruffy."

Footfalls sounded outside, and Rox came panting in. "Is she okay, Braham?"

"Yeah, she's okay," Braham said. "She hid in her golem."

"I didn't hide!" Taimi cried indignantly. "I was collecting important data."

"Uh-huh," said Braham, who didn't care.

More footsteps. "Did I hear you said Taimi's okay?" Kasmeer asked, Marjory behind her.

"I'm fiiiine," Taimi said, pouting. "Golly."

"I feel like the whole world is falling out from under us," Marjory said grimly.

"I think we all feel that way," Caoilfhionn said softly. "We've got a new dragon to contend with."

"It's confirmed, then?" Rox said. "Do you know which one?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Wegaff said.

"It's Mordremoth," Caoilfhionn said, sharing a glance with Wegaff. They'd talked about it at length and come to the conclusion that it could be no other. The fact that the vines they'd fought before had showed signs of dragon magic, the fact that their trail had led them west to the borders of the Deep Maguuma Jungle, where no one had gone for centuries and returned to tell of it, it could only mean that the Jungle Dragon was moving in the world. Wegaff had done the analysis, putting hard evidence behind Caoilfhionn's intuition. "Mordremoth did this. And it's only just starting."

"M-M-Mordremoth!?" Kasmeer stammered, and hiccoughed – she hadn't done that in a long time.

Marjory frowned. "Raises the stakes to a whole new level of awful, doesn't it?"

"Gods, we need a plan," Kasmeer said faintly. "What are we going to do?"

"You really think all these vines are related to Mordremoth?" Rox asked. "All these deaths?"

Annhilda looked at Wegaff and Caoilfhionn, who both nodded. "We're certain. But we're going to keep following Scarlet's trail for now."

"Scarlet believed she had seen the bigger picture," Marjory said. "It was part of her delusion. I don't think bringing down the Zephyrites was part of Scarlet's plan, but both she and the saboteur…"

"Talked about the destruction of Tyria." Annhilda nodded. "I know."

"Aerin said a Tyrian leader would die, on that note we found on him," said Kasmeer. "This makes me think someone – or something – was pulling his strings. That scares me the most about him."

"Trouble is, we have no idea who he meant," Rhyoll said, poking the steam minotaur head on the desk.

"It could be anyone, though the biggest threat to Mordremoth is probably Trahearne," Kasmeer said. "I hate the thought that Queen Jennah could be in danger, too."

"He said several other strange things, too, from what you told me," Wegaff said.

"Hm, maybe we should change the subject?" Annhilda said, with a glance at Caoilfhionn. "I think we've given Trahearne's mate a scare."

"I-I'm fine," Caoilfhionn said unconvincingly. Of course Trahearne would be a target – it was no secret that he led the Pact, and that the Pact had brought down Zhaitan. True, Hope's Legacy and Destiny's Edge had also been prominent in that endeavour, so they could all be targets, but in that moment he saw Trahearne in his mind as if lit by a spotlight, alone and defenseless…

"He's in no more danger than the rest of us," Marjory said reasonably. "It's all right, Caoilfhionn. He has the Pact around him, and he's smart. Don't look so haunted."

"I'm fine," Caoilfhionn said again, breathing a bit more. "Forgive me. I just can't bear to think of something happening to him."

"I know that feeling," Kasmeer said, and she and Marjory looked at each other with a little smile.

"And we'll be there to help, won't we?" Braham clapped Caoilfhionn on the shoulder, sending him stumbling forward a little. "Sorry, forgot how flimsy you are again."

"Okay," Annhilda said. "We know who we're dealing with, even if we don't quite know what it's capable of yet. Taimi, what have you found?"

* * *

Caoilfhionn trotted up to the gate of Caer Avel at Fort Trinity. "Hello! Is he busy right now?"

"He's always busy, but you're to go in anyway," said the Whispers Asura guard, with an eyeroll that said 'as usual, why do you even ask anymore, these are the least useful orders we have'.

He laughed. "Thank you." He headed over to Trahearne's office-tent, trying not to radiate anxiety. Trahearne didn't need to sense that off him.

Trahearne was pacing slowly back and forth behind his desk, but he looked up and smiled at Caoilfhionn's approach. "Hello, beloved. How are you?"

"I'm… well," Caoilfhionn said, trying not to blurt out all his worries at once. "How are you?"

Trahearne sighed. "There's next to nothing about Mordremoth in the Priory archives. Even asking Gixx and Ogden has not borne fruit. I'm wondering what angle I should tackle next. Would you like some tea? Wine?"

"Tea sounds lovely," Caoilfhionn said, taking a seat on a camp stool next to the desk. One of the fort's cats jumped on his lap, and he petted her absently.

The silence was more awkward for him than it normally was. He was glad of the cat occupying his restless hands, looking up at the seagulls crying overhead in the warm sun, breathing in the sea air that he missed, trying to release his tension now that he was here with his love as he wished to be.

Trahearne set a cup of tea in front of him and sat down with his own cup. "What's on your mind? You seem anxious."

"I knew I couldn't hide anything from you," Caoilfhionn said ruefully, bidding farewell to the cat, "not that I was trying very hard. Trahearne… I'm worried about you."

"About me?" Trahearne leaned forward, yellow eyes filled with concern. "Why?"

"You remember the mad Soundless who destroyed the Zephyrite fleet, Aerin… He had a note on him saying 'a leader will die'."

"I remember."

"Well… Kasmeer pointed out the last time we met that the greatest threat to Mordremoth… is probably you. And that you might be therefore a target."

"Logical." Trahearne sipped his tea, his gaze reaching into the distance. "I knew I would be a target the moment I became Marshal. Not even solely from the dragons – a position of this power is not without its dangers from other Tyrians, for several reasons. Though not necessarily lethal ones…"

"I didn't think of that," Caoilfhionn said wretchedly. "I didn't think of any of that. I-"

Trahearne reached out and covered his hand with his own. The ring sparkled on his finger. "If you had known, would you have told me not to take it?"

"…No." He relaxed, glancing at his love with a look of adoration and pride. "No. You are still the only one who could do all this. And I'm so proud of you. Just… be careful of the dragons, too."

"I will," Trahearne promised, lacing their fingers together. "Try not to worry about me as a target. I am aware of the danger. And you must be careful as well. I am surrounded by the Pact, by loyal allies who have become friends, but I worry about you, too – running about Tyria, always on the front lines of conflicts everywhere…"

It was an abbreviation of old discussions they'd had, about Caoilfhionn's active role in the world, and not one he ever had a ready answer to. "I understand. I will be careful."

"Now drink your tea, you haven't touched it yet."

Caoilfhionn laughed and did so. "And it would be remiss of me to leave you without so much as a kiss, wouldn't it?"

"Indeed it would," Trahearne said gravely, reaching out his arms to him.


	28. The Eternal Alchemy

28: The Eternal Alchemy

Dry Top was a strangely exquisite place, full of hidden wonders, once you got past its dusty and barren surface. Of course Caoilfhionn loved the oasis, to see sunbeams shooting down between great branches of the palms that reached towards the canyon banks, the sudden lush misty atmosphere after the dreadful parched feeling the rest of the valley had, the pink moas with their shining feathers, the kindly skritt and his little garden.

But there was more – and besides the soft sweeps of wind-carved red sandstone, or the towering majesty of the great pillars of harder stone. The ley line cavern was like nothing he'd ever seen before, and the first time he saw it, his breath was completely stolen away. The shimmers of magic dancing through the cool air, delighting his soul, was only the final layer of enchantment of the cavern's beauty. He could hardly sum up in words how amazing it was. Kasmeer agreed with him, and he was glad to have someone who knew how he felt.

It had been some weeks, though, since they'd left Taimi in the Cavern of Shining Lights, and many terrible things had happened in that short time. Fort Concordia and Fort Salma had fallen to Mordremoth's vines, shattered from within, and Marjory's sister Belinda was dead. But their quest continued, and so Annhilda and all of Hope's Legacy except Marjory assembled at the Cavern with Taimi and Wegaff, who had been studying the place.

Taimi, in Scruffy, led them eagerly to a great cavern on the western side, round as a dome, with a strange low black pyramid in the centre and a great floating cube overhead. "This is so amazing!" Taimi gushed, pointing inside the pyramid to a… Caoilfhionn couldn't tell what was in there. A low platform in the middle, which looked sort of like a very hard bed, surrounded by strange emitters that still glowed a little. "Looky look look! Can you believe your eyes?"

They all stared. Rox spoke first. "Uhhhh. What is it?"

Taimi clucked. "It's Omadd's machine, you simpleton."

"Hey," Braham scolded her. "Rude."

"Sorry," Taimi said. "But it's the very device that showed Scarlet the Eternal Alchemy. It still works!"

"We think," Wegaff put in. "Everything appears to be functional, but we have not tested it, of course. Though not for someone's lack of attempting recklessly." He coughed and did not look at Taimi.

"Can I blow it up?" Rhyoll asked. "That thing's gotta be dangerous."

"Absolutely not!" Taimi cried indignantly. "Think about what we could learn. Besides, my mind is far more resilient than Scarlet's was."

"How do you know?" Damara said. "We could have a crazy Asura running around next."

"I've been reading her notebooks, duh."

"Umm, I don't think you should mess with it," Kasmeer said nervously. "I'm inclined to agree with Rhyoll. What do you think?"

Annhilda bent over and peered at it from outside, hands on her hips. "It looks like Scarlet added to it. Some of the parts look different, newer."

"Yes, I recognize Omadd's work," Phiadi said. "Wait, if she rebuilt it, did she go in it again? Sheesh. Should've quit while you were ahead, lady."

Rhyoll growled. "That makes me even more nervous. What exactly do you know about this device?"

Wegaff cleared his throat. "It was allegedly designed to affect the mind, to open it to new awareness. Scarlet wrote that when she got into it, she claimed she saw what we Asura call the Eternal Alchemy."

"What else?" Annhilda asked.

"It broke Scarlet's mind," said Kasmeer. "After she used it, she was never the same. It's as if it opened the door to insanity."

"She committed her first murder after using it and escalated quickly after that," Wegaff said.

"Yes. This machine started her on a very dark path," Caoilfhionn said.

"So what are we going to do?" asked Kasmeer. "We can't let Taimi near it."

Damara nodded. "For her own good, I agree-"

" _Taimi!_ " barked Rhyoll, and they turned to see Scruffy slip through the opening on the side of the pyramid.

"Oh no!" cried Kasmeer. "We have to-" A wave of energy emitted from the machine, knocking them all back.

Rox bounced up, hurrying back forward. "Don't touch anything. We don't know what – Taimi!"

Taimi screamed, and Caoilfhionn could not tell if it was a scream of pain or excitement, but either way – they could not let her subject herself to these unknown horrors, even if she were eager to! He ran forward, ducking as another wave of energy blasted out from it.

"Can't get close," cried Braham. "That thing is shooting off too much lightning."

Caoilfhionn had skidded, but he hadn't been sent head-over-heels like he had the first time; he threw his own shield of lightning around him, hoping it would protect him. Kasmeer saw what he was doing and added her powers to his, doubly protecting him. He charged into the chamber, past everyone else's anxious shouts, grabbed Scruffy's arm, and threw all his body weight into it. The golem weighed many times as much as he did, and he had no business moving it, but he'd found the right torque and put magic into it, and Scruffy went tumbling out of the door again.

But then the emitters in the chamber, glowing brightly, fired all at once-

* * *

He was surrounded by… by darkness filled with lights, all coming at him too fast to take in, and yet slow, as if he were wading through deep water, stumbling along an invisible road in a void of blue and green and black. Ahead of him was the brightest light of all, filled with patterns he could… almost… make out…

It was his Mother! Beautiful, strong, symmetrical, she seemed to beckon to him – and then he was falling, falling swiftly, into her, through her…

He and she were joined, at the centre of Tyria, and the dragons orbited them. He could see everything, as if he were no longer flesh and bone but a spirit – a god, even. For an instant, he almost understood-

There was a growl that shook the foundations of his perception, and Mordremoth dove out of orbit, hurtling towards him-

He heard a cry in his mind. "Caoilfhionn! Caoilfhionn!"

"Mother!" he called back, reaching out, he didn't know where. "Help me!"

He had the sensation of warm, soft petals closing about him, embracing and protecting him, just before something like gigantic teeth snapped at his heels. And yet those teeth were so much stronger than the petals…

And the world became a poisonous green.

* * *

Awareness was a strange beast – one moment he was experiencing the entire cosmos, filled with unimaginable terror and elation, and the next he felt a cool dry sandy floor beneath him, and the voices of his friends overhead.

"Hey!" Annhilda was calling him. "Caoilfhionn, are you okay?"

"I think he's dead," Braham said from further back.

"What? No." Kasmeer sounded indignant. "He's alive. Don't be silly."

"Don't even joke about that," Damara said. "Oh, Gods, he doesn't have a pulse!" He felt her fingers on his wrist, then his neck.

"Sylvari don't have a pulse," Annhilda reminded her.

"Oh, right…"

He opened his eyes, carefully. "I'm… I'm all right. I don't appear to be dead, at least."

"Oh, thank the Gods," Damara said. "We were so scared."

"Tell us everything!" Taimi shouted from atop Scruffy. "What did you see?"

"Take it slow," Rox said. "Once it had you, we were afraid to just yank you out."

"Then you started screaming, and we had no choice," Kasmeer said.

He sat up, and Annhilda helped him. "Take deep breaths," she said. "Relax. We got you."

"It was incredible," he gasped out, shaking.

"What was? What are you talking about?" Annhilda sat down beside him, keeping him grounded against her body as if he had hypothermia, and the others clustered in closer until she glared at them to give him some breathing space.

"I had a vision. I saw it. The Eternal Alchemy." He knew he sounded like a raving lunatic and yet nothing mattered but getting the words out as swiftly as he could.

"You what?" Phiadi demanded.

"You're going to have to explain," Rox said. "We don't understand."

"I'll try," he said, staring at his outstretched hands as if they could help him. He hadn't even perceived that he had hands while in the vision. "I saw how Tyria is woven, and… I'm tied up in it. Somehow."

"Okay, I think you need to rest a while," Damara said, overly gently. "Do you hurt anywhere?"

"Do you think he's lost it?" Phiadi muttered to Wegaff. "Think he's gone like Scarlet?"

"Maybe we shouldn't have stuck another Sylvari in there," Wegaff muttered back.

He mustered his strength, sitting up straight and staring intensely at them. "Listen. Vast energies flow through and around Tyria, and I saw a dragon. It… um…" The terror came back to him in a flood, and he swallowed.

"It what?" Braham said. "What did you see?"

"It was part of the workings of the world," Caoilfhionn stammered out. "It came at me."

"That sounds like a terrible nightmare," Kasmeer said sympathetically.

"If it hadn't been for my Mother – I saw the Pale Tree at the heart of a vast moving puzzle."

"Like Scarlet," Phiadi said.

"Yes… But she protected me. She called out to me."

"What do you think that means?" Taimi said eagerly.

Finally, his shaking was starting to subside. "It means we need to talk to her."

"What can she do?" Rox asked. "She's a tree."

"She's the Pale Tree," Caoilfhionn said, smiling. "She's magical beyond imagining. She can access the Dream."

"And what exactly will that do?" Taimi asked, making notes.

"Er… I'm not sure yet. But she will surely know a little more than we do now."

"All right," Annhilda said. "Sounds good to me. In fact, let's get all the leaders of Tyria in. Knut, Queen Jennah, Trahearne, everyone. It's time to talk about Mordremoth."

"We'll have to have them meet at the Grove, then," Damara said. "She can't exactly go anywhere, can she?"

"She has an avatar which she can project to talk with us her children within the Grove," Caoilfhionn said, "though she mainly keeps to the Omphalos Chamber – she has too many children to speak to all at once." He managed to laugh. "But I don't know that she can send it traveling, no."

"Then we drag the bear out of his den, and nicer invitations for everyone else," Annhilda said. "Who's staying with Taimi?"

"Thank you for realizing I'm not going anywhere," Taimi said.

"I am, again," Wegaff said. "Caoilfhionn, I'm going to need you to give me as detailed an account of your… experience as you can before you go, because I've got a new theory about dragon magic and it's not a pleasant one."

"I will do my best," Caoilfhionn said sombrely.

"Everyone who wants to help chivvy world leaders, we'll meet at the Grove tomorrow," Annhilda said. "Caoilfhionn, you better rest. See you all later."

* * *

Caoilfhionn led his friends towards the Omphalos Chamber, but nearly all of them stayed below. Only Annhilda, as his guild leader, came with him. Warden Lochin gestured them forward with a most warm welcome.

"My child," said the Pale Tree. "What a delight to see you looking so well."

"Hello, Mother!" Caoilfhionn said, bowing; Annhilda copied him. "I am glad to see you too."

"It is a joy to see you again. Your visits seem to grow longer apart with each passing season."

"For me too, Mother. But I have been very busy. This is my guild leader, Annhilda."

"Greetings, Annhilda," said the Tree. "You are most welcome here. I hear you take good care of my son."

"He's a valued member of our guild, and a good friend," Annhilda said. "Thanks."

"But tell me, what brings you here seeking my counsel?"

"Two things," Caoilfhionn said. "First, I had a vision. You figured prominently in it."

Her large expressive eyes widened. "I'm intrigued. Tell me more. What was it about? Where did you have this vision?"

"In an Asuran device Scarlet used to see the Eternal Alchemy. I saw it too."

Distress crossed her face. "What dangers have you been toying with? Such things were not meant to be seen. They will crack your mind."

"Do you not remember it yourself?" he asked anxiously. "I heard your voice, and called out for you."

The Pale Tree knelt before him to look into his eyes. "Well, my child, the one thing you must never forget is that I stand between you and the greatest darkness you'll ever know. A vast darkness intent on consuming all that we hold dear."

"What do you mean, Mother?"

"There are those who reject my protection. It leaves them vulnerable in ways they cannot imagine, in ways they never were before." She shook her head, and pollen fell from her petals in a faint sparkling shimmer. "I shield you as best I can, and will for as long as I can."

"I know, Mother, and I love you for it." He smiled at her, then remembered. "But wait – you're talking about dragon corruption. We're immune to it, aren't we?"

"Yes, in the past, my children have been immune. But Mordremoth's corruption is powerful, and just as Zhaitan created the undead from so many creatures, so Mordremoth's corruption can change you."

That sent a chill through him like nothing else. "Is that what happened to Scarlet?"

"I believe she opened herself to it when she let down the wall of her mind. Mordremoth's corruption seeps in through the cracks in our willpower. Do not follow in her footsteps."

"I won't, Mother. I will be on my guard."

"Yes, I know." She smiled and stood again. "So tell me, what is the second half of your quest here today?"

"We need to discuss Mordremoth's activities," Annhilda said, and summarized all they'd witnessed in the last few weeks. "It's reaching incredibly far, incredibly soon – Scarlet only woke it up a couple months ago. I recommend getting the world's leaders to join ranks against it now, while it's still sleep-addled."

"I see," the Tree said gravely. "A summit, then. I could host such a gathering, if you can convince them to come. Who do you plan to invite?"

"Knut Whitebear, of course. And a leader from each of the other races."

"And Trahearne, as Marshal of the Pact," Caoilfhionn put in.

The Tree smiled. "Of course. He has been away even longer than you have. Though I imagine he will not be able to stay long. But I will leave it in your hands while I prepare here. I am glad you brought this to me. I am happy to help you."

"Thank you so much, Mother," Caoilfhionn said. "We'll get it done."


	29. Gathering the Cast

29: Gathering the Cast

"Whoo, yeah!" Braham cheered, cavorting through the snow and the ice. "I'd almost forgotten what it was like to fight in the cold. It's invigorating!"

"It's good to fight with fellow Norn, and thrash some Svanir scum," Annhilda said. "It's been too long since I did that." Her thoughts turned to her younger brother, who used to compete with her on hunting expeditions. She'd be able to outhunt him twice over now. She hoped he didn't feel too overshadowed. But anyway.

"Well done, Braham," Eir said warmly. "That was impressive."

Braham immediately blushed and stumbled. "Uh. Thanks. That was the first time I've ever seen you fight. I guess the legends are true."

Eir blushed too, and mother and son stood dumbly, avoiding eye contact. "Oh. Thank you. Um." Annhilda smirked. The ice between them was melting, slowly, but unstoppably, like the spring thaw in Wanderer's Foothills. In time, they'd be closer than she had ever been to her family.

"Yeah. Umm. So."

"So… who else is starving?" Eir cried. Garm jumped and barked. "Besides you, Garm, haha!"

Braham laughed too. "I could eat a whole dolyak… and its harness!"

"I could eat _two_ dolyaks," Annhilda said, elbowing him.

Eir snorted. "Let's head back to Hoelbrak, and we can celebrate with a feast. What do you say?"

"I say that sounds like a fantastic idea," Braham said.

"I'll be there for sure," Annhilda said. "And you'll let me talk to Knut, right?"

"Absolutely," Eir said. "You don't have to wait for me to do that, do you? But I'll back you up when you go. And thank you for destroying the totem."

"We're always happy to send Svanir home crying," Braham said. "Even if it wasn't for a greater cause."

"That's exactly how I feel," Eir said, smiling at her son.

Braham ducked his head, but he was grinning. "…Yeah."

"Let's start heading back to Hoelbrak," Annhilda said. "We've got a lot of ground to cover, and I'm just going to be more hungry by the time we get back!"

* * *

Divinity's Reach was as splendid as it had ever been – and Caoilfhionn was dressed for the occasion, for Damara, Kasmeer, and he were going to a party! But it was no idle party for relaxation. There was intrigue afoot, and Damara, who didn't interact with the nobles if she could help it, had asked for his help. But he'd never seen his guildmate so handsomely dressed, no longer in her usual scaled leather, but a poofy blue silk shirt with a striking gold vest over top, black pants, and tall boots. Caoilfhionn himself was wearing the elaborate outfit Blathnat had gifted him after he had helped defeat Zhaitan, and Kasmeer looked as lovely as she always did.

At the behest of Countess Anise, they were looking for someone who was spreading ugly rumours about Queen Jennah, but as they approached the countess, Caoilfhionn was shocked to see the terrorist Secondborn Canach with her, armed and armoured, leaning against a pillar behind her with his arms folded forbiddingly. Countess Anise seemed completely at ease with his presence, and welcomed them warmly. "Kasmeer! Come over here. Don't look so glum. Hello, dear. Don't worry your little face over what the herald's papers say. You'll always be a noble in my eyes."

Kasmeer looked a little shocked for a moment. "Countess Anise. That's direct… and kind of you to say. I'm afraid I don't feel particularly noble."

Caoilfhionn waited a moment for the others to get deeper into their conversation, then turned to Canach. Damara could tell him anything he missed. "And what are _you_ doing here?"

Canach gave him a mocking smile. "I'm on the job. Bodyguard for a countess. A somewhat more glamourous position than my last, I must say."

Caoilfhionn frowned with confusion. "You mean your position… as prisoner?"

Canach scowled. "Yes, and thanks for stating the obvious, painful truth. Technically, I'm still a prisoner. It's just now my bars are lined with velvet. Don't let that fool you, though. I'm definitely not free."

"Are you planning on behaving yourself?"

The mocking smile returned. "Absolutely. I'm no fool, sapling. I could be in a much worse situation than this. I guess you could say I learned my lesson. I know I have a reputation for acting rashly, but those days are behind me."

"Pardon me if I don't entirely believe you."

"No pardon necessary. You're in a crowd of many watching me like hawks. So far, Countess Anise has treated me with respect. I have no reason to betray her trust. Besides, she amuses me mightily."

Caoilfhionn took a step closer. "I'll be at the front of the hunting party if you mess this up."

Canach's smile widened. "I would expect no less, though I do believe you might have a hard time catching me again. No offense intended."

Caoilfhionn gave him one last glare and went to catch up with Damara, who had already started heading off with Kasmeer. "Anything I should know about?"

"Nothing new," Damara said. "Just keep your ears open, around ministers, about ministers, anything to do with ministers."

"One of them is our culprit, and we have to catch them and discredit them," Kasmeer said. "I'll be behind you, watching for liars."

"I'm so glad you're here," Damara said to Caoilfhionn. "I hate these sorts of things."

He smiled. "I think it's quite exciting. Not in the same way as a fight, of course."

"Oh Gods, it's not exciting at all, and this mission is exactly the kind of stressful that I _hate_. Go on, be a social butterfly, I'll buy you… um…"

"Wine?" he teased, eyes dancing. He didn't lack for wine when he wished for it, but he also liked gifts, so…

"Sure! Have at it. I'll try not to mess things up on my end."

They passed that particular noble, the handsome, rather gormless one, Lord Faren, who accosted them with a beaming smile. "Ah, Damara! You fancy up nicely when you knock the dirt off your boots! Although, the tough adventurer look suits you."

"Thanks, Lord Faren," Damara said flatly.

"Mind, beware the ministers. They're on the prowl."

"Great," Damara said. "Why can't they just get along for one party?"

Faren laughed lightly. "Humans. What can I say? We're an inscrutable race. Turn half the world against us, and we still find ways to argue amongst ourselves. Frankly, I think it's boredom that makes us do it."

"And what are you doing here, if you're not looking to argue like the others?" Damara asked.

"Me? Oh, I'm just here for the delicious desserts and ladies. I'm eyeing a few of both, but I can't quite decide which I'm hungry for."

"Ugh!" Damara said, and stalked off abruptly.

"W-wait – Damara? Where are you going?"

"Choose wisely," Caoilfhionn said, smoothly filling the gap in the conversation. "Too much of either can give you a bellyache."

Faren chuckled, Damara already forgotten. "Truer words were never spoken. Have a good time at the party!"

"Thank you," Caoilfhionn said, and offered him a slight bow.

"What's the matter, do you dislike him so?" he asked Damara, hurrying to catch up with her.

Damara sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, he's harmless, I just despise how flighty he is. And I can't understand how new women keep letting him near them with his reputation. Naivety?"

"I don't understand any of it," Caoilfhionn said mildly. "To fall in love with so many… is that truly love?"

"No, it probably isn't," Kasmeer said. "But then, Sylvari probably don't have the same psychology that humans do. Speaking if which… perhaps you'd better brace yourself."

"For what-"

He quickly found that he stood out more than he'd intended to, and people just gravitated towards him, particularly women – he was beautiful and exotic and _looked_ wealthy, and that was all most of them needed. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have been more than happy to simply chatter at the centre of such a large circle, making all sorts of new acquaintance, learning what they thought about all sorts of inconsequential things – for inconsequential things added spice to life! But not tonight; and indeed, tonight so many of them wanted to talk to _him_ about things that were _definitely_ not about political scandal, and even telling the forward ones that he was married only put off a couple of them. "Goodness, my dear Marisa, surely you're not trying to lead me into scandal myself?" The fair Marisa only tittered, as did many of those around her, and batted her eyelashes more. They didn't understand his bond, and probably never would no matter how many times he tried to explain, so he moved on, ostensibly in search of pastries.

A circle of ministers did give him some relief, and a chance to tease some information out of them, under the guise of laughter and the topic of gardening. Caoilfhionn was further amused, every time he walked by Canach, to hear his fellow Sylvari becoming more and more bored and disgruntled.

"Am I to intimidate these ministers and aristocrats, to put them off guard? …Surely you can't imagine that these dandies pose some kind of threat to you." And a while later: "If there's nothing in particular you need me to do, would you mind if I helped myself to some of your refreshments?"

"Hmph." Anise remained in an air of contemplation, ignoring her companion entirely.

"Am I really so dull? Well, here's something interesting. Would you like to know how long a severed head remains conscious? …I suppose not. Do let me know if you need me for more than making debutantes and fops uncomfortable."

Caoilfhionn continued circulating, not exactly made uncomfortable by Canach's declarations, but irritated, hoping no one would be prejudiced against _him_ thanks to his fellow Sylvari's actions. But still he had to smile and laugh and glitter, ask innocent questions and get less-innocent answers, and he played his part well, though with more effort than normal.

He was closing in on their suspect when he heard Canach yet again. "In absence of your orders, I've been occupying myself by planning the extermination of this entire gaggle of preening fools. I'd thought maybe some well-placed bombs here and there among the topiary, hm? Or perhaps I'll pick them off one by one with my blade. And hide the bodies in the pantry. I wonder, would that reflect poorly on your office? I imagine I'd become a hero to the Krytan people. …And still no reaction. I wonder, Countess, are you even at all with me?"

"Mmm?"

Caoilfhionn gave him another glare, no longer even a little amused, to which Canach coolly stared back. He wasn't particularly worried that Canach would follow through – there was no way he would reveal his plans before executing them. He was, even as he said, just trying to get a rise out of Anise. It was just… uncouth to speak so.

Still, he had uncovered enough for Damara to draw the trap shut about Minister Estelle, and then withdrew to where the real Countess Anise had been waiting. Canach joined them a minute later, after the Countess had congratulated them on helping Queen Jennah help them.

"Ah, there you are, Countess. I trust I played my part in your charade this evening?"

Anise laughed. "There, there, blossom. You did very well as the sore green thumb at my affair. I'm sure everyone was far too intimidated by your glowering menace to notice it was an illusion standing beside you the whole time."

Canach smiled toothily. "Yes, I thought you seemed rather vapid." If Anise were offended by that, she gave no sign.

"And Queen Jennah can come for certain?" Damara asked eagerly.

"Yes, of course. I'll be there as well, though… incognito."

"Thank goodness," Damara said. "Well, thanks for inviting us – the food was good, even if the rest of the party was stressful."

"It was highly entertaining," Caoilfhionn put in.

"Of course, pet. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

* * *

Knut Whitebear was coming to the summit, thanks to Annhilda, Braham, and Eir. Queen Jennah was coming to the summit, thanks to Damara, Kasmeer, and Caoilfhionn. Imperator Smodur was coming to the summit, thanks to Rhyoll and Rox. All that was left was the Arcane Council, but between Taimi, Wegaff, and Phiadi, they still had not swayed Councillor Phlunt to behave in the interests of the greater good.

So all of Hope's Legacy was present in the Cavern of Shining Lights as Taimi prepared to demonstrate her completed Waypoint Recalibration Device, though… Caoilfhionn wondered if that might not be any more effective than they'd already been. Unless they wanted Braham and Rox to try intimidating the councillor… which would probably be a bad idea. Caoilfhionn had already heard bad things about Phlunt's attitude from Wegaff, and Mabbran, who had stopped by to visit Phiadi, actually privately said to him: "If I could drop him over a cliff, I don't think anyone would miss him. I'd drop his whole party, actually."

And yet he was still not prepared for how callous, how greedy, how utterly outrageous Phlunt was. He cowered while the Mordrem attacked, while the others protected him and all his equally-arrogant and equally-cowardly cohort, and while they protected Taimi, more importantly. But the moment that everything hostile was dead, he cautiously lifted an ear and an eye… "Is it safe to emerge? You're sure – _absolutely_ sure – that there aren't any more coming?"

"I'm sure," Annhilda said, impatiently. "The big one was the last one."

Phlunt straightened, adjusting his robes haughtily. "Yes, well… the _big_ one, as you so quaintly put it, may have friends."

"There won't be more," Wegaff said, pointing at their miniature waypoint models. "We successfully recalibrated all the waypoints."

"So as you can see, Councillor Phlunt, my device will save the entire waypoint network," Taimi said. "You can thank me now, and later."

"Was this demonstration to your satisfaction?" asked Annhilda.

Phlunt grinned and cackled a little. "Yes, I believe it was. The waypoints are protected. Wonderful!"

"So you will agree to come to the Grove summit?" Braham asked.

"Not so fast, my muscular friend." Phlunt held up a cautionary hand. "In light of this new development, I have decided to add further stipulations to the deal."

"What? Why, you-" Taimi squawked.

"Silence!" cried Phlunt, but he'd already set Caoilfhionn on edge. "Taimi, as a ward to the College of Synergetics of Rata Sum, you are required to hand over all inventions for study and documentation. I hereby claim proprietorship over this waypoint recalibration device. I will hold it in trust for you until your graduation."

"What!?" exclaimed Caoilfhionn. That _avaricious_ –

"No!" cried Taimi. "I made this, on my own time, outside of Rata Sum!"

"Irrelevant. Hand it over like a good progeny, and we will see you at the summit." Phlunt beckoned.

"No! I won't let you take it!" Taimi hopped into her golem and backed away a little towards her device.

"Taimi, no!" said Phiadi.

"No, that's not right!" Caoilfhionn cried, stepped a little in front of Taimi. "You can't just take her hard work from her!" He still found Taimi abrasive, but he could not sit by and watch this happen.

Phlunt waved at him impatiently and angrily. "Stay out of this, Sylvari! You know nothing! Taimi, you wouldn't dare disobey your superiors, would you? Just hand it over."

Caoilfhionn took another step forwards, his gaze hardening to stone. "I will not stay out of it! I will fight injustice wherever I find it!"

Phiadi grabbed his belt and yanked, hissing at him. "Caoilfhionn… shut up!"

"No, he's right," Damara snapped, drawing her bow and standing next to him, her hawk leaning forward aggressively on her shoulder.

"I told you, it's mine!" Scruffy scooped up the device and fled with it out of the cave.

Phlunt growled and pointed. "Agh! Krewe, after that delinquent."

"She's not a delinquent!"

"Caoilfhionn! Damara!" Phiadi held him back by the belt as the others ran out. "Listen to me. Phlunt may be the most colossal walking pile of hylek droppings to parade about Rata Sum – though I can think of a few others who also fit that description – but he's correct, if untactful. Progeny don't get to keep their own inventions until they've graduated. Even I didn't – I had to give mine to my boss, Varkk. You _do_ get them back later, if you even want them by the time you've graduated. It's to keep progeny from dabbling too deep in unsupported fields by themselves. It's for their own safety."

"But… to such a person!" Damara cried. "Is person the right word? Self-centred, greedy wurm husk!"

"I know it's aggravating-"

"It's more than aggravating!" Caoilfhionn said. "It's wrong, and cruel, and infuriating!"

"You can go through the entire thesaurus, but that doesn't mean he can't do it. And if you plan to fight him on it, you can say goodbye to Asura participation at the summit. Is that what you want!?"

"Your people are thoroughly unreasonable," Caoilfhionn said bitterly.

"And _your_ people are massive unscientific nitwits, like everyone else, but we still need to work together to fight those dragons," Phiadi said. "Stay here and abstain on principle if you must, but the outcome will still be the same. And you know, she might be in danger out there."

Caoilfhionn silently followed her. After a moment, Damara did as well.

He caught up to Mabbran. "If you drop him over the cliff, I'll kick him on the way down." Dishonourable, and he'd never actually do it, but satisfying to think about.

"Deal," Mabbran said, equally seriously.


	30. The Dragon's Reach

30: The Dragon's Reach

The Grove was a blaze of magical lights on an evening a week or so later, crowds of Sylvari and others gathered to see the world leaders come through the Asura gate from Lion's Arch. Caoilfhionn saw many people he knew, though one of them was Canach… Oh well! He would not let the grouchy Sylvari interfere with his enjoyment of the evening. Besides, Trahearne showed up before the delegates, with Laranthir and less fanfare.

Caoilfhionn ran to greet him; Trahearne did not change his own pace, but he smiled warmly at him. "Caoilfhionn! How are you, beloved? You look stunning, as always."

Caoilfhionn took his hands and leaned up to kiss him. "I am well! And you do too-"

"Not like you, you know that."

He _was_ wearing his very best outfit again, and laughed bashfully. He still thought Trahearne unbearably handsome. "Anyway, Annhilda and I are representing Hope's Legacy at the summit. They talked me into being the one to speak of our discoveries. I hope you are well too?"

"Yes, very well. Very curious. I'm looking forward to hearing what news you bring."

"I'm glad you're here. You of all people should be here." Caoilfhionn linked an arm with Trahearne's as they continued on to blend into the crowd, Laranthir and the other Pact escort trailing behind.

Trahearne shook his head. "I'm not planning to say much. I'm only here to give you moral support and to answer any questions about the Pact's current plans. It's bothersome, you know, when we were drawing up plans to go after Kralkatorrik, and then Mordremoth decides now is a spendid time to awaken."

He spoke lightly, and Caoilfhionn answered in kind. "If only they'd line up politely and let us smack them before anyone got hurt… By the way, are we ready to take on Mordremoth?"

"Not yet," Trahearne said, sobering. "But we will be soon. No matter the outcome of this meeting, I'm directing a forward camp to be set up in the Silverwastes. I already have scouts looking for a suitable location. I'm hoping I'll see you there?"

"I'm sure the others can spare me for a while," Caoilfhionn said happily. "Will you need the others?"

"Perhaps not until everything is in place. You must tell me what you have been up to, besides herding politicians!"

"I should love to," Caoilfhionn said, but at that moment Caithe slipped by.

"Hello, Trahearne, Caoilfhionn. You look good. Healthy. Mostly. I hope you let them all know how dangerous Mordremoth is."

"Of course," Caoilfhionn said, and then she was gone into the crowd, and the Herald was beginning to speak.

When the world leaders had gone by, Trahearne kissed Caoilfhionn's hand and stepped away. "I should go now, as Marshal. I'll see you up there." Caoilfhionn fondly watched him make his way to the lift, so tall and noble with Caladbolg at his back.

Then those of Hope's Legacy followed, which was nigh-everyone except for Taimi, for her golem was too heavy to take the lift, and Wegaff and Rhyoll, who were less interested. There was the Pale Tree's avatar, as beautiful as always, and Caoilfhionn smiled to see her with Caithe at her right hand and Trahearne at her left. She waited until Hope's Legacy had taken places respectfully to the side, then spoke. "Esteemed leaders, welcome to the Grove. Your attendance at this critical summit is appreciated. We are here at the behest of the honoured group you see before you. I would like to invite their representative, Caoilfhionn, give us a summary." She gestured to him to stand forward. "Please begin."

Caoilfhionn smiled brightly, stepped forth, bowed, and took a deep breath. "Greetings. My name is Caoilfhionn. Thank you for coming. We are grateful to you all and your leadership in this time." His words, much-rehearsed, flowed from his lips easily. "We've all been hearing about Mordremoth's awakening and the damage the Elder Dragon has already wrought. In the time that this dragon has been awake, it has been sending out vines as far as the Iron Marches. Soon Tyria will be nothing more than a giant briar patch."

He grew more solemn and more intense. He could not be comforting about this threat. "These vines are malicious. Fort Salma has been destroyed. Fort Concordia as well. Their defenses could not keep out an enemy that rises from beneath, shaking the very foundation of their walls and towers. We can't know where it will attack until it does. No one is safe. Our families, our people, our trade routes, and most recently, our waypoints were threatened. They may be again someday soon. This is why I stand before you and ask that you, the most powerful leaders of Tyria, link arms and armies and work together to keep one and all safe and secure. It's up to us. There is no one else. We must unite. We are all Tyrians."

He caught a glimpse of a proud smile on Trahearne's face before his lover schooled his expression back to impassiveness.

There was some discussion then, a surprisingly civilized and orderly discussion. Smodur the Unflinching was wary of committing much, if at all, but Knut and Annhilda agreed that many Norn would find a dragon a worthy hunt, even if it wasn't Jormag. Phlunt grudgingly acknowledged, after some firm words from Trahearne, that the Asura could not stand alone, and Queen Jennah pledged an entire task force to fighting Mordremoth – which seemed to twig Smodur and Phlunt a little.

"You have all given me hope for Tyria," said the Pale Tree at last. "It seems we-"

There was a rumble from below that shook the whole tree, and everyone looked around. Then the Pale Tree screamed out in pain and reeled, sinking to her knees, as her body creaked about them.

"Weapons out!" roared Smodur, drawing his sword and shield. "We're under attack!"

And Mordrem burst from the Pale Tree's flesh, wolves and husks and thrashers, charging towards them. "Defend yourselves!" Trahearne cried, stepping forward to stand with him.

For a while, all about him was chaos, teeth and weapons and spells, warcries and monstrous screeches. He could hear Phlunt whimpering _again_ , but it was nigh-drowned out by Knut laughing boisterously and Smodur snarling furiously. And below was not much better; he could hear the sounds of battle with Mordrem echoing up from the Upper Commons. But almost everyone in the Omphalos Chamber could defend themselves, if not fight back, and Kasmeer had created a portal in the centre with Marjory defending her. One by one, the monsters fell and gave them some breathing room, and one by one, each of the leaders and their escorts stepped through the portal to join the city below, where they would not be isolated and easy to target.

"That's all of them!" Kasmeer cried at last. "Come on through! I'll keep the portal open as long as I can!" She stepped through and vanished with Marjory; Annhilda was after her.

"Wait," the Pale Tree called, faintly, from where she huddled in her favoured alcove. "Caoilfhionn, I must speak with you alone. Come closer…"

He hurried to her side. "Mother? Mother, are you all right?" Her avatar was shivering, looking about, frightened.

She caught his arm, her gaze focusing on him. "Here you are… I can sense you clearly now. I am… weakened."

"What happened? How can I help?"

She clutched at him in a way that wrung his heart with worry. "I… I can't take much more. These Mordrem tore at my roots and battered my branches. And… be warned. There is another…"

"Another Mordrem?"

"Yes. One of the most dangerous… it comes directly from Mordremoth. You know it from your Dream. Before it comes, I must tell you-" She broke off with a wince and a shudder. "It draws nearer! If I die…"

"You will not die today, Mother!" Caoilfhionn cried, daring to put a hand on her shoulder. She was warm, though somehow both solid and insubstantial simultaneously. Of course, for her true body was the Tree beneath and above and around him. "Where is it? Tell me!"

"Shh… Listen." She was wilting quickly. "You will hear it approach."

He stood, daggers in both hands ready, and stood before her, small and fierce. "I will stand in its way. Forgive me if I scratch you a little?"

* * *

Trahearne stared up at the Omphalos Chamber from below; Mordrem were rampaging about him, and his people were fighting back valiantly alongside the representatives from the other races, but he could not concentrate on them. What was taking Caoilfhionn so long…?

The screech and shadow of a dragon stilled the breath in his lungs, and Kasmeer's portal vanished. Caoilfhionn was alone up there! "Warmaster!"

"Marshal!" Laranthir cried, at his side, ready to follow him.

There were hidden paths up to the Omphalos Chamber and beyond, if one was a good climber. He might not have spent as much time in the Grove as his siblings, but he still knew them all, and he climbed now, fretting at how long and difficult it was while the dragon swooped about the Pale Tree, occasionally diving in to land heavily on her side and cram its head into the Chamber, breathing poisonous vapours within. As long as it kept focusing on the Chamber, he could be certain that Caoilfhionn was still inside, defending their Mother.

He clambered over the edge of the Chamber and dropped to its floor, taking Caladbolg in his hands and running forward. Caoilfhionn was darting through the centre of the space, dodging the flailing dragon's claw, torching the vines that tried to ensnare him. "Caoilfhionn!"

"Trahearne!" Caoilfhionn did not even look up, concentrating on the dragon as it pulled back and swooped around to another corner. "I'm glad you're here. I don't think I could slay this beast alone."

Trahearne rolled away from a blast of poison and slashed a charging Mordrem wolf in half. "No, it's a bit on the large side, isn't it?"

"Last time I fought it, Caithe was there to help…" Last time? He'd never mentioned this before?

"Here I am," Caithe said coolly, dashing up the wall to take a slice at the dragon itself. "Yes, I had to dive into your Dream, I remember."

"Yes, exactly."

"If you can kill it in the Dream, you can kill it in real life," Laranthir joked. Just at that moment, the dragon thrust its head even farther into the chamber, snapping at Caoilfhionn's leaves. Trahearne lunged forward to protect him, but the dragon had reached its limit and begun to pull back – and caught, wedged between two large branches.

This was their chance, as it thrashed and choked! "Forward!"

* * *

Caoilfhionn needed no further encouragement, crashing forward with lightning and then striking it with flame, channeling his fury and determination into it. Before he had been born, he had been afraid of this dragon, but still charged into battle boldly as a knight ought. Now he was older, and more experienced, and he knew why he ought to be afraid, but he was not. Caithe was there with him on its other side, her venomed daggers dancing along the bark of its branches, and further back, Laranthir loosed arrow after arrow, aiming for its eyes. And Trahearne was beside him, the light of Caladbolg gleaming in the darkness of the Omphalos Chamber, stabbing forwards with all his might.

The dragon screeched as Caladbolg struck it on the nose, yanking itself from the Tree and shaking its head rapidly, and then flying off quickly. He heard its cries dying into the distance, and turned to run to where the Pale Tree's avatar lay crumpled on the ground. "Mother! Mother, it's gone, the threat has been quelled – for now, at least." He struggled to catch his breath.

"Then come," she whispered. "Come closer. I must share something with you…"

He knelt beside her and – his eyes no longer saw the waking world, but another vision. "I'm fading…" said his Mother's voice, distantly, echoing, and he saw golden boughs in the Caledon shed their leaves, gathering the snows of winter. The land drew past him, to a landscape of golden clouds; the Shadow of the Dragon flew past it, and golden lights shone out of it – and then it fractured into a vision of crystals, shining sharp-edged crystals, that shattered, revealing for a single moment an egg – then vines choked it, choked off everything, smothering everything in writhing spikey blackness.

He woke with a gasp, finding Trahearne's hand on his shoulder. "I-I don't understand…"

"I've summoned the menders," Trahearne said, kneeling beside him. "Come, we must leave her to them and discuss what to do next."

Caoilfhionn followed him in a daze, through the new mesmer portal and to the Upper Commons, where the others of Hope's Legacy clustered around him. "Are you all right?" "You got to fight a dragon, I'm rather jealous." "I'm lost for words. That was a real dragon!" "I wasn't able to take any readings, but if that thing was just a sample of its master's power…" "Twig! Why didn't you come down with the rest of us!?" He could hardly tell one voice from another and covered his eyes and ears.

Trahearne put an arm around him, grounding him. "Give him some space. He's been burdened with yet another vision."

"Another?" asked… Braham. "What kind of vision?"

"I don't know," he murmured. "There was a golden light and crystals everywhere."

"You sure that dragon didn't just give you a bump on the head?" Wegaff inquired.

"I'm sure," he said, taking a deep breath and recovering himself, standing up straight and looking at them full on. "The Pale Tree showed me. It felt like a call to action."

"What action?" Kasmeer asked. "What was she talking about?"

"I'm afraid I don't know." He looked away. Not much help, that was.

"It's okay," Rox said. "We'll figure it out."

"Yeah, and the first thing is to learn all we can about dragons," Annhilda said. "Kas, Jory, Wegaff, I want you three to go to the Durmand Priory. I'll be by as soon as I can, but I think I'll be busy here a while longer."

"Research is right up my alley," Marjory said. "We'll go straight there. One of us will mail you when we have enough information to share."

"Thanks! Taimi, you need to continue your own research."

"But keep it quiet," Damara said.

"Yeah, we don't want any more nosy councillors butting in and derailing my work," Taimi said. "I'll be discreet, boss. Everyone will think I'm just doing schoolwork."

"And I am leaving now," Trahearne said, giving Caoilfhionn another squeeze about the shoulders. "I am eager to return to Fort Trinity and continue our preparations against Mordremoth."

"This reminded me of the dragon at Claw Island," Rhyoll said. "Similar size, similar strength."

"Poor Lion's Arch," Trahearne said. "It has had more than its fair share of bad luck these last few years. But there is an intelligence to this attack that does not fit what I know about Elder Dragons."

"Agreed," Phiadi said. "It was too well timed."

"Who knew about the summit?" Annhilda asked.

Damara looked around. "Only those present and anyone they told…"

"And anyone helping to set up for it here," Phiadi said.

"Too many," Trahearne said, frowning. "Information like that leaks like water through cotton. Not helpful. Someone sent the Shadow of the Dragon after us." He turned to Caoilfhionn. "You said that creature was from your Dream, did you not?"

"It was indeed." Caoilfhionn said. "I'll never forget it."

"Wait, you saw this thing in a dream? You foresaw it happening?" Braham exclaimed. "Why didn't you do anything?"

"It wasn't a premonition," Caoilfhionn tried to explain. "I fought it there. It had no connection to this attack today." Had Mordremoth been so strong that its champion attacked him before it even awoke? Had it known of his Wyld Hunt in the womb?

"I don't understand, but it doesn't matter," Braham said. "All that matters is that it's still out there. It could come back at any time or attack someplace else."

"It could, which is why I will be establishing a forward camp tomorrow," Trahearne said. "Caoilfhionn, a moment?" He steered Caoilfhionn away from the guild and took him by the shoulders, looking down at him with concern. "The things we see in our Dream have a way of coming around. Your Wyld Hunt… Do you feel the call yet?"

Caoilfhionn searched himself, then raised his eyes to Trahearne's. "I hadn't for some time, but I feel it now. Is it a new one?"

"I don't know," Trahearne said. "Is it?"

He felt again. "No. It is the same." Perhaps his Wyld Hunt had not been to fight Zhaitan at all? Perhaps it had been to fight Mordremoth from the start? Oh, but then he would not have felt relieved in such a way when they _had_ killed Zhaitan.

"You helped to destroy Zhaitan, but that must not have completed your Wyld Hunt," Trahearned summarized without knowing his thoughts.

"Wonderful," Caoilfhionn said wearily. "Of all Sylvari, my Wyld Hunt is to slay every dragon in existence."

Trahearne drew him into a close embrace. "I'm sorry, beloved. I thought mine was impossible until it was not, but yours… That does seem a tall order. Not impossible, perhaps, but… very difficult. Long. Wearying. But I am here beside you to see it through."

Caoilfhionn embraced him back. "Thank you, beloved. You give me such strength and comfort."

Trahearne kissed him sweetly. "Then I will see you soon in the Silverwastes?"

"Yes, of course." Caoilfhionn managed to smile at him. "We'll sort ourselves out. You'd best get to Fort Trinity. I'll see you soon."

"I love you."

"I love you too."


	31. The Silverwastes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter I tried to make clear more how the PCs are involved in the Pact in the Silverwastes. It felt a little in the game like the Pact Commander shows up well after Trahearne's already got everything underway, which seems irresponsible. I also felt the final attack needed more explaining, it seems a bit hare-brained in game.
> 
> Caoilfhionn cries when he tops but as a bottom he's more mischievous. ;D
> 
> Thank you Tharash for beta-reading! "Can I call your plant romance 'sappy'?"

31: The Silverwastes

While the others went their separate ways from the Grove on the morrow, Damara, Rhyoll, and Caoilfhionn went to Fort Trinity to help. He also caught sight of Canach, which left him feeling disgruntled, but what could he do about that? The great airship fleet, repaired after the liberation of Orr, was being loaded, and the Pact forces were reassembling from their three Order headquarters. Trahearne was too busy to talk much, and Caoilfhionn made himself useful as he could, spending time with the medics. Rhyoll joined the engineers, and Damara was put in charge of several units of Vigil forces.

The _Glory of Tyria_ was the first to launch, ready to make the several-day trip west and north; it landed in a small canyon east of Brisban Wildlands with a vast quantity of building supplies and materiel, and a small force to protect them. The next ship brought engineers to start assembling the base, and over the next few weeks, ships came from Fort Trinity, bringing more and more soldiers, not only Order soldiers, but Charr centuries and Human squadrons, Sylvari Valiants and Norn hunters, even Asura Peacemakers. Watching Trahearne coordinate it all was splendid; he'd truly grown into his role, giving orders with no hesitation or doubt, a leader of people to be reckoned with. Caoilfhionn rather adored hearing him be bossy, even – perhaps especially – when he himself was the target.

"Ho there!" cried a familiar voice one day, and Caoilfhionn turned to see Eithne and Ruadhan grinning at him from the airship dock stairs. "Caoilfhionn! Brother!"

"Eithne! Ruadhan!" He ran to them and embraced them. "What brings you here?"

"We came to help!" Eithne said, laughing, her yellow skin shining in the sun as befitted her nickname. "I know I am more a hunter of beasts than of monsters, but my arrows fly true just the same!"

"After what happened in the Grove, how could we stay behind?" Ruadhan said. "We wish to do everything we can to protect the Mother Tree, and we decided that purpose would be well-served by coming here. And you rushed away without staying to commiserate with us!" He made a comically sad face.

"I'm grateful to see you here," Caoilfhionn said, patting his brother's shoulder. He'd met with Cathaoir after the attack, but it was true that the meeting had been brief and he had been focused on following Trahearne to Fort Trinity. "If there's anything I can do to aid you, tell me and I shall do it." They were not often out of Caledon Forest, he knew.

"Well…" Eithne looked around uncertainly. "This is all very strange to me. I could certainly use…"

"A tour!" Ruadhan cried. "Yes, if you show us around, surely we will understand better all this clamour and confusion."

In the midst of it all, they ran into Trahearne, who greeted them courteously. "Have you heard anything from our Mother? Is she recovering? I've been so worried."

The two other Sylvari looked at each other anxiously. "I believe she's still in danger," Ruadhan said. "Her mind was… damaged."

"Oh, our poor Mother." Trahearne clenched his fists. "This feeds my desire to stop this Elder Dragon in its tracks. It will know the burn of my wrath."

Caoilfhionn put a hand on his arm. "Do not leave caution behind in your hurry to take revenge."

Trahearne took a deep breath and unclenched his hands, turning away slightly; Eithne and Ruadhan pulled back. "No. No, of course, you're right. I have too many lives in my hands. Thank you for being the voice of reason. I occasionally fall victim to my rage."

"It's hard to believe of you," Caoilfhionn said, a half-smile crossing his face. "When I am angry, I become hot. When you are angry, you become cold. It's harder to see."

"That's because you are the sun, and I am the moon," Trahearne said, leaning against the wall behind Caoilfhionn with one hand and reaching up to touch his face with the other. "But surely you know me well enough to know I'm not always as calm as I seem."

"Oh, I know now, but others may still not. But I'm angry too, and just as determined to destroy Mordremoth." Even had not the call of his Wyld Hunt been growing ever more insistent in his mind, he was determined. Although he was rather distracted by Trahearne leaning over him like that, his sap running fast; was he not thinking about how much he loved it when he loomed? Or was he doing it on purpose?

"I'll confess. This particular dragon inspires a dread in my heart that none other has. I've never felt so personally attacked. That it would go after her… It's unforgivable." Trahearne paused, and lowered his voice even more, his gaze distant. "Some mornings, I awake, and for a moment, I'm afraid that when I look outside I'll see the world destroyed. That image is so clear in my mind. It's the most desolate feeling I've ever had."

"You carry such weight on your shoulders," Caoilfhionn said softly. "I'm here to take some of it when you can spare any."

"You already do so much," Trahearne said, his attention focusing on him again, so close and so intense. "I beg you to be careful, if you wish to ease my burden. Our Mother Tree needs you. I need you."

Caoilfhionn reached up and kissed him. "I will do my best. …Would you like to help me show Eithne and Ruadhan around camp?" He'd nearly forgotten his siblings standing near. How utterly rude of him!

Trahearne had apparently also almost forgotten, and quickly stepped back from him, turning to include them all in the conversation. "I fear I have not the time, but I am grateful for their presence." He approached them and bowed. "Thank you for coming to aid us."

"We'll do the best we can," Eithne said, nodding. "For our Mother, and for Caoilfhionn, and for you, Trahearne."

"In that order, I suppose," Ruadhan joked, and Trahearne laughed.

* * *

Annhilda had gone to check on Marjory and Kasmeer and Wegaff; she had been in the middle of a strategy session with Trahearne, Phiadi, and Damara when the message came. Her eyes had lit up at the mention of the Special Collections, which was when Phiadi said "Go on, then, just promise to bring back some useful intel." She had almost forgotten to say goodbye before heading out.

Access to the Special Collections was highly restricted, and every opportunity was exciting. There were enough legends collected there to make songs you could sing for years without repeating yourself, and that was quicker than reading the books and scrolls they would be taken from!

There was something different about the main hall today, as she walked up the stairs past the looming stone figure of Abaddon – funny how the Priory ended up collecting things that were supposed to be lost forever. It took her a while to find Archivist Ernswort, who was flustered as she always was, fluttering around her crates and packages. "Are you delivering something?" asked the old archivist severely. "I'm already buried in magic items. I don't have enough scribes, and every piece needs to be catalogued."

Annhilda pointed upwards. "I really have to ask. Is that Zhaitan's _tail?_ "

Ernswort turned quickly, taking in Annhilda and her pointing finger, and chuckled. "As a matter of fact, it is. We brought it here after Zhaitan's death. We had to construct special rigging to get it in here. It took months."

"Huh, I must have been busy," Annhilda said.

"We wanted his head, but it was in too poor a condition to recover."

"Oops," Annhilda said completely unapologetically. "Oh well, you probably would have had to fight several Norn who wanted to pin it up on the Great Lodge at Hoelbrak. Anyway, I'm looking for some particular books…"

The books led her to Ogden, who tricked her into a… place in the Mists? The crystalline dreamscape could only be Glint's Lair, and Annhilda felt a shiver run down her back as she looked around. Two and a half centuries ago, the heroes of the Flameseeker Prophecies passed through these same paths, seeking Glint's wisdom.

It was… rather… bright, though there was no harsh lights to bounce off the crystals and blind her. And it was rather pastel, between the bismuthian 'ground' and the quartz 'walls'. Caoilfhionn would have loved it, she couldn't help but think. He did enjoy frivolous, sparkly things. She, on the other hand, appreciated more the clever puzzles and traps, the way the place made you question which way was forward and which was back. It took Raven's wits to design such a place. She strode ahead, sword in hand, alert for danger. Wegaff trotted behind her, equally uninterested in the view, torn between jumping at every sign of danger and attempting to quantify the magic suffusing every bit of the place. Marjory and Kasmeer had been separated from them, but they could at least hear each other's voices echoing through the crystals.

As impressive as it was, the biggest riddle remained Ogden's reason for it all.

* * *

Camp Resolve was an ever-increasing buzz of activity with every passing day. With the camp a now heavily fortified bastion, sheltered from the natural elements, Trahearne was ordering offensives on foot right up to the edge of the jungle, where massive vines spilled over the edge of the cliffs separating the dry from the wet. Everyone was constantly on edge lest vines of that size invaded the camp from below, as with Fort Salma or Prosperity Village. Though the ground appeared to be solid stone, that hadn't protected Prosperity…

But the fleet was assembling, more than half-gathered in the last six weeks, and now things would accelerate until finally they launched in all their strength and splendour, to… do things. Caoilfhionn was not officially privy to the battle plans, but everything Trahearne knew, he knew – and what he didn't know, either. Any scouts sent past the edge of the jungle did not return; they still knew almost nothing further west, where the dragon's lair was, what lived in the jungle besides Mordrem, anything at all.

So their current strategy was to hold the Silverwastes, to keep the plants at bay until they were ready, and then plunge boldly ahead, bombarding the jungle before them to keep the vines down, until they found the dragon. They'd head west first, where the vines seemed to be coming from, and if it wasn't there, they'd sweep around to the unknown areas to the south.

"It's a dreadful plan," Trahearne said privately to him one night. "I hate it."

"But our fleet is half again as large as before," Caoilfhionn said, sitting behind him on their cot and massaging his neck; he was rewarded by Trahearne melting under his hands with a relaxed sigh. "The _Glory of Tyria_ is not our only large ship anymore."

"But to put our trust in strength alone is foolishness. Knowledge is far better. We could not have defeated Zhaitan without knowing his weaknesses, and Mordremoth is likely stronger. Nor do we have the knowledge to weaken him yet. He has been strangely docile about our base here, but I don't trust it. Not at all."

Caoilfhionn soothed him. "I agree, but we can't have that knowledge now, so at least we have overwhelming strength. Besides, I'm sure once we launch, everything will become clear. It's the waiting that's the hardest part."

"Yes… But not only that, I hardly like to lay waste to the entire jungle. It can't solely be the provenance of the Elder Dragon. And the Dragon is the target of my vengeance, not the jungle."

"It doesn't sound like one of your ideas, no. But then why are you going along with it?"

"I'm not just going along with it, I'm taking responsibility for it," Trahearne remarked with disgruntlement. "It was Logan's idea, actually, and half my commanders, including Phiadi, backed him up. I will say it's provisional, but I don't believe I can come up with a better one while we're still losing scouts. I don't like losing so many scouts. It feels like a death sentence to send them out."

"At least we've determined that making our way through the jungle on foot is not really a feasible option," Caoilfhionn said, embracing Trahearne and pulling him back to rest against him. "Annhilda said she's coming back tomorrow, perhaps she'll have learned something to help."

"Aye, surely there's _something_ about the Heart of Maguuma at the Priory, even if there was none about Mordremoth. Not that it would be recent information…"

"Better than nothing. Come, beloved, let us talk of lighter matters before we sleep."

"I have too much to think of to allow myself to-"

"Then we don't have to actually talk-"

But Trahearne didn't struggle too hard against his lips, against his adoration of Trahearne's lean, angular shins and forearms and shoulders, letting the smaller Sylvari push him down and pull his clothes off. As usual, Caoilfhionn only made it partway before he was overcome with awe and gratitude, simply holding his lover, pressing kisses to each of his spinal marks, breathing in his greenness, trying not to weep with how amazing he was, feeling his sap sing in his veins.

"Are you all right?" Trahearne asked, trying to look over his shoulder.

"More than all right," Caoilfhionn replied with a sniffle. "Just let me worship you, my beloved."

"As you wish, my prince…"

* * *

Annhilda, unfortunately, did not have information on the Heart of Maguuma or Mordremoth, though she brought news that was nearly as exciting – if top secret. The dragon Glint had given an egg to the Master of Peace of the Zephyrites, and now they were back on his trail. Surely he was long gone after all this time – but no, Hope's Legacy and Caithe caught up to him in a hidden labyrinth of stone and vines beneath the Silverwastes, mortally wounded by a pack of especially vicious Mordrem.

"You're our only hope now," he rasped to Annhilda. "Listen… closely. I have something… I can no longer protect. You must… understand… its importance to Tyria's future…"

"The egg," Annhilda said. "I know its significance. I'll guard it carefully-"

The Master of Peace breathed his last breath, sagging in her arms, and the egg fell from his grasp.

"No time to explain," Caithe said, dashing forwards and scooping it up before anyone else could react.

"Caithe! Wait!" Marjory cried. "What do you think you're doing!?"

But she was gone, only a few fluttering leaves falling to the sands where she had stood. "What was that all about?" Damara said. "I thought taking care of the egg was your job, Caoilfhionn? Didn't the Pale Tree ask you?"

Caoilfhionn looked around, confused. "I thought so too. But it's true Caithe is a very good guardian. Perhaps she thought it best to get it safely away as quickly as possible. I'll thank her when we catch up."

"Then let's do that," Annhilda said, rising with the Master of Peace's body. "We need to take this one back to his people, and I'm not comfortable lingering here."

"Me either, boss," Braham said. "I hate the heat outside, but sooner we get back out of these caves, the better."

"Really? I like how hot it is outside," Rox said.

"I don't get it, you're covered in fur. Shouldn't you be warmer than me?"

"It's short fur. You've got all that extra padding for cold climes, it's not helping you here."

"Did you just call me fat!?" Braham gasped, pretending to be offended.

"It's no more than Taimi would have done," Rox said, grinning.

"Hmph. You're not wrong."

"Fourteen Kasmeers, wasn't it?" Damara said.

"Nineteen," said Marjory, "but that was including Scruffy who was at least ten of those Kasmeers."

Kasmeer was blushing. "I'm not a unit of measurement!"

But Caithe was not at Camp Resolve, and everyone they asked – Logan, Eir, Zojja, Trahearne – were just as mystified by her actions; they'd seen her for a moment and then she'd been gone again. "I have no idea why she would take this task on herself, when she knew the Pale Tree had given it to you," Trahearne said to Caoilfhionn. "Perhaps you should ask Mother yourself? She may have some insight that we lack."

"That's a good idea," Caoilfhionn said. "I'll do that – if she's well enough to speak with me." He looked around at the others. "I'll go alone, I'm sure the rest of you are needed here. I'll send a message if I need assistance."

"Come back soon," Trahearne said. "We're finalizing launch preparations in the next two weeks."

Caoilfhionn nodded. "The sooner the better. Mordremoth doesn't need any additional time."

"My thoughts exactly. Annhilda! I'd like your opinion on the state of our outposts."

"I have several," Annhilda said. "Most of which involve me providing personal instruction in Mordrem-bashing."


	32. Caithe

32: Caithe

The Grove was still subdued when he arrived, much of the natural luminescence from the Mother Tree that had illuminated the village among her roots not currently gleaming. He'd sent word ahead to the Menders to ask for an audience, and Cathaoir met him at the gate to the Grove. "Mother has been fading in and out of awareness, the Menders say. But she said she was able to protect the Dream from the assault."

"Oh dear," Caoilfhionn said. "That is good, but I fear for another attack."

"So do we all. You should see the Wardens stationed in the upper boughs, watching for that creature to return." He put a hand on Caoilfhionn's shoulder. "Do not be afraid for Mother – at least, not anymore than her current state warrants. She will be protected from future attacks."

"Thank you all," Caoilfhionn said. "But I suppose I will have to wait for an audience."

"Yes, though I understand you're to be allowed in the first time she feels well. Your quest must be special indeed."

"It is, though slowly am I beginning to understand it… Oh, I should let you know that Eithne and Ruadhan are well, and making themselves of great use."

Cathaoir smiled. "That is good to hear. They are very brave, to join your Pact. I should have liked to myself, but I felt myself called more to defend the Mother Tree. But my thoughts go with you as you journey to slay Mordremoth."

"Thank you, Brother."

"No, thank you, Brother. Ah, here comes Mender Aine – perhaps your wait will be brief indeed."

Mender Aine greeted him courteously and brought him to the Omphalos Chamber. The light was still dim, but soothing now. The Pale Tree's avatar lay on the ground as if in sleep, but as Caoilfhionn approached and knelt beside her, she sat up with Aine's help. "Good. I was hoping to see you soon. The vision… have you made any progress… with it?"

"I believe so," Caoilfhionn said. "I found the egg, but-"

The Pale Tree breathed a sigh. "What a relief. You may have just saved Tyria. The struggle is far from over, but if you had failed to find and protect the egg, it would have been over before it began."

Caoilfhionn looked away uncomfortably. "But… Caithe has the egg in her custody. Do you know where she might have gone?"

She frowned. "Caithe has the egg? Why? You, you're the one who must care for it. Not Caithe. That's why I gave you the vision."

"I know, but for some reason I don't understand, she ran off with it."

"Oh." He had never seen his Mother so blank, but she had so little energy to respond with. "Well, you must find her. I can help, but my powers in this regard are… limited."

"What can we do?"

"Maybe if you knew… more about her past. I can give you memory seeds. They will… allow you to search her memories for places that are significant… to her."

Caoilfhionn's eyes widened. Those were not lightly given. "Mother, I… thank you."

"Aine, if you please…"

"Rest, Mother," Caoilfhionn said. "Thank you very much. I'll fulfill this quest, I swear it."

He rose, putting three of the seeds in his jacket, cradling the fourth in his hands, following the soft pull on his mind. He'd never used them before, but he knew what to do – the Dream told him. He approached Ventari's Tablet, and nodded to it. "Where life goes, so too, must you," he murmured softly, and bent to plant the seed.

* * *

He woke again and by the angle of the sun, he had been in the memory for some time. Mender Aine was beside him. "How do you feel?"

"I feel… fine," he said. "I saw the youth of the Sylvari – when the Secondborn had just Awoken." He had seen Trahearne, looking exactly the same as he yet did, heard Caithe tease him for thinking too much. Some things never changed. He'd seen Faolain, eager and impetuous but not sinister, in love with Caithe as Caithe loved her. He'd even seen Ceara, already tinkering with Asura trash, a glow of fascination in her eyes.

"A long time ago to you, and a short time to us, but time is relative," Aine said. "Do you know where to go next? I dare not inquire into your quest too closely."

Right, his quest was supposed to be a secret – except from Hope's Legacy and Destiny's Edge. "I do. I think. I'm going to call on my guild for help, I don't think it would be a good idea to use these without someone to watch over my body."

"I think that would be wise," Aine said, helping him to his feet. "May Ventari guide you."

"Thank you, Mender Aine. May Mother's recovery be swift."

* * *

The core of Hope's Legacy – Annhilda, Damara, Phiadi, and Rhyoll – were needed still in the Silverwastes, defending the outposts and leading attacks on the Vinewrath monster that lurked on the edge of the jungle, and Braham, Rox, and Kasmeer stayed with them and Destiny's Edge, but Wegaff and Marjory came with him to watch over him when he went to Metrica to plant the next seed.

When he woke, he had tears in his eyes. He sat up abruptly, shaking, crying with anger. "H-how could…"

"What's wrong?" Marjory asked, kneeling beside him. "What did you see?"

"I… the Secondborn…" He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. "Some Asura kidnapped some Secondborn and did _horrible_ things to them. They experimented on them until they died."

"That's terrible," Marjory said. "Was it Inquest?"

"It wasn't even Inquest! It was… It was Vorpp. And if I see him again I will kill him."

Wegaff was doing an awkward shuffle. "Well… you're not supposed to test your subjects to death, but some Asura are like that…"

Caoilfhionn glared even at him, one of his oldest friends. "They were begging for mercy and received none! Even if those Asura had thought them naught more than sentient plants, surely their speech should have shown them to be thinking, feeling beings! …Even you, when we met, you wanted to study _me!_ "

Wegaff stumbled back a pace. "W-w-wait, hold on, now, I knew Sylvari were _people!_ I just wanted to check your concentration of magical energy – readings you were happy enough to participate in!"

Caoilfhionn dragged himself to his feet and angrily wiped the tears from his face, though more flowed to replace them. "Perhaps you are an exception… but many of your people are very cruel. …I no longer blame Canach for seeking such violent revenge on that Consortium director. He was there, too, one of the victims."

Marjory stepped into his field of vision, her gaze anxious. "Hey. I get it. But it's long past. Take some deep breaths and try to calm down. Do you know where we're going next?"

Caoilfhionn breathed out and bowed his head. But she had not seen it before her as if living it. "Yes. To the Silverwastes, to a centaur village."

"Hm. I haven't heard about any centaurs living out there."

"Then we will have to find where one used to be."

"Caoilfhionn," Wegaff said to his back. "I'm not going to apologize on behalf of my people. It was twenty-five years ago and I wasn't born yet. But I'm not going to make excuses for them either. I'm… sorry you were… er… hurt by this."

Funnily enough, that helped. "Thank you, Wegaff."

* * *

They made it back to Camp Resolve several days later, and Caoilfhionn was still emotionally exhausted, going straight to Trahearne's tent and brooding into a pillow rather than going to find his lover immediately as he might normally. It was well dark before Trahearne himself came in, stopping short in surprise in the opening. "Caoilfhionn! What are you- Oh dear." Caoilfhionn had turned to look at him, and he supposed his eyes were still yellow-rimmed and tragic in the candlelight. Trahearne crossed the tent and sat next to him swiftly. "What's wrong, beloved?"

Caoilfhionn sat up and crawled into his welcoming embrace. "Mother gave me memory seeds for Caithe… I think the thread through them is Faolain's obsession with Wynne, but the second memory was so horrible…"

"Hm." Trahearne held him tighter. "I remember a little of that. Faolain was _gracious_ enough to leave me out of it."

"I saw you, in the first memory. You were just as beautiful then as you are now…"

Trahearne exhaled an almost-laugh. "I was just as boring then as I am now."

"You're not boring! I love you."

"Thank you, beloved. But what did you see after that?"

"Some Asura kidnapped some Secondborn and tortured them to death." He inhaled, and then the words came tumbling out without stopping, luminescence surging with emotion. "They didn't even think they were people, they called them 'creatures' and kept them naked in cages, and inflicted pain upon them mercilessly even when they were pleading for their lives… And they gloated over it! Caithe and Faolain went to rescue them. But the one who did it escaped. I've met him, without knowing what he'd done. He's still horrible. If I meet him again…"

Trahearne sighed, lost in thought. "Yes, I remember. It was the second time they'd done that – and the last, thank the stars. Niamh and I were assembling a group to follow them, though I was afraid to lose yet more newborns, but by the time we were halfway to Metrica, Caithe and Faolain were returning with the survivors already. But we lost so many…" Trahearne's grip tightened yet more, this time not for comfort. "I was so angry. As angry as when they'd taken my brother Malomedies. I wanted to kill them, as many as I could, to get revenge for all the meaningless pain they'd inflicted upon us." He shuddered, and Caoilfhionn felt that he was holding back still.

"But you didn't."

"Mother said not to – that we would need their help to fight the dragons. So I swallowed my rage. And it has paid off – we would not be where we are today if we had begun an equally meaningless war with our closest neighbours."

Caoilfhionn sighed long, letting out his anger and frustration into Trahearne's narrow chest, and Trahearne relaxed around him too. "You are right. But I do not like Asura as much as I did before. And I was none too fond of them before, Wegaff and Phiadi excluded…"

"I understand." Trahearne stroked his back, his leaves, pressed a kiss to his forehead. "It will pass as you remember your friends among them. They are not evil."

"Most of them."

"Most of them," conceded Trahearne. "I will readily admit the Inquest are unapologetically evil, and the Arcane Council certainly knows how to drop bugs in everyone's breakfast. But the rest are quite decent. If varying degrees of incomprehensible."

"You're right," Caoilfhionn said, with another sigh. "But thank you for understanding."

"I understand all too well," Trahearne said sadly. "I wish this could have been kept from you. I don't like to see you upset this way – by something so long past, especially."

"I'll recover," Caoilfhionn said, making a wan smile. "I'm only three-and-a-half, after all."

"Such a sprout you are," said the twenty-eight year old eldest of the Firstborn, and kissed him.

* * *

The third memory led him out to the North Silverwastes, even more north than anyone had been before. It was infested with giant beetles, but this time, Damara joined the party – Trahearne did not like the idea of Caoilfhionn unconscious and underdefended so close to Mordrem territory. He explained to her on the way, and she asked many questions about the memory seeds. Humans were so disconnected from each other. He felt a little sorry for them – for all of them, not just Humans.

He woke up weeping again, and did not even open his eyes. The righteous fury he'd felt after the previous vision was nowhere to be found, only incredible grief and disappointment, shame and sympathy, an almost physical pain in his soul.

"What did you see?" Damara asked, and put her arms about him. "Oh no. Are you going to be okay?" Her jungle stalker rubbed its head and body against him, purring, trying to soothe him.

He shook his head. He had no breath except to weep, for the shame of what he had seen was overwhelming him. "Faolain… Faolain and Cadeyrn murdered all the centaurs. And Caithe helped." He sobbed. "It was dreadful. So many dead…"

"And what about Wynne?" Marjory asked.

"She ran away in grief, and rightly so… into a cave near here. Ah, Faolain tried to tell her it was her own fault! How despicable can she be!?" And to hear her call the centaurs 'animals', when not long ago she had been enraged by her own people being called 'creatures' – she had no awareness, did she?

"Gaslighting bookah," said Wegaff. Caoilfhionn didn't know exactly what he meant by that, but it seemed accurate.

"Gods. I'm sorry you had to see that," Damara said, and Caoilfhionn cried harder, her sympathy enabling him. It was just so… painful to see someone he looked up to, doing something so wicked and wrong! How could Caithe do such a thing without trying to stop it? And what would he have done in that situation? Could he have stopped it?

Such thoughts were unhelpful, and he struggled to bring his emotions under control.

"You said she ran into a cave?" Marjory asked. "Can you show us?"

"I think so." He tried to wipe his eyes and got up unsteadily. "Just down this canyon and to the left…" They followed him. The land had not changed much in the intervening twenty-five years, and the cave was easy to find. The back wall of it had a strange symbol carved all over it. "Wynne somehow activated this symbol and passed through."

Wegaff went up and touched the stone. "Feels solid enough… let's get some energy readings here."

"I'll make a sketch of that," Marjory said, pulling out a notepad and a paper-wrapped charcoal stick. "I haven't seen anything like it before, but perhaps there will be something at the Priory."

Caoilfhionn grimaced. They didn't have time to go all the way to the Priory and back. But they didn't have much choice, either.

"Hmm…" Wegaff was muttering to himself. "Did your Wynne have a key of any sort?"

"I was too far back to see," Caoilfhionn said. "I suppose it's possible."

"Yes… yes… All right. I'll come with you and Marjory to the Priory. I think, between the three of us, we can crack this puzzle open. You have to get in there, yes?"

Caoilfhionn touched the last seed inside his coat. "Yes. I must see the end of this tale."

* * *

Trahearne, of course, noticed the moment he saw him, in his tent again. "Another painful memory, I take it."

"I have decided not to tell you about this one," Caoilfhionn told him. He was stronger this time, not flinging himself into his lover's arms, even though he rather wanted to. But he always wanted to, whether or not he needed comfort, so that was nothing new.

"But you're in pain-"

"I don't want to distract you now," Caoilfhionn said. "We're launching in a few days, and it's… I know you would think about it." And think about it, and think about it – he didn't think Trahearne would lose focus, but this was a burden he didn't need right now.

Trahearne frowned. "I'm going to worry about you anyway, you realize."

"Better that than this," Caoilfhionn said. "At least you know where I am."

"Very cryptic," Trahearne said dryly. "Are you learning from me?"

Caoilfhionn managed to laugh. "Am I? Maybe. I promise to tell you afterwards, when we have leisure to let our emotions run more freely."

"Thank you. I will hold you to that."

"As long as you also _hold_ me. Anyway, I cannot get into the place where the last memory is, so I have to go to the Priory for answers."

"We're launching in only a few days."

"I may not have a choice, beloved. This is so important. But you can't delay for me."

"I know. In fact, I'm going to send the rest of your guild with you."

Caoilfhionn blinked wide-eyed at him. "But you need them."

"Just in case. I'll keep an airship back for you to bring you all up quickly…"

"No, those you need even more than Hope's Legacy. Trahearne, you're letting your heart cloud your judgement."

"Hm." Trahearne thought. "I'll think about it more carefully before I decide. And in the meantime, I'll pray that you are able to find your answers and return in time."

"There's a good chance that I will, after all," Caoilfhionn said. "Now… I'm tired. This tale is exhausting."

Trahearne chuckled and stroked his leaves. "Get some rest, my prince. Your knight will guard you." Caoilfhionn laughed and laid his head down.

* * *

Caoilfhionn appeared beneath the Camp Resolve waypoint, a little out of breath from having travelled all the way from the Durmand Priory in one go. He'd gone with Marjory and Wegaff, and with Ogden Stonehealer's help, found an answer to the door's riddle in what Caoilfhionn thought must be record time. They'd been gifted with a magical torch that burned cold with white fire, a memory of the Forgotten who had apparently carved the rune. And now they were back, just in time. The fleet was going to launch the day after tomorrow, if Caoilfhionn had kept track of the days right. While he was at the Priory, he'd overheard several novices chattering excitedly about the new look of Lion's Arch – but he had no time to visit now. It would have to wait.

He walked up to the two guilds standing about chatting in the middle of camp, Marjory and Wegaff following him. Marjory bore the torch for now. Annhilda waved them over, and Logan Thackeray turned to him with a big smile. "You all made it. Great. We've just been introduced to this young Norn here. He, apparently, is Eir's son – a fact I didn't know when I first met him."

"I… I saw no point in mentioning it," Eir said awkwardly. "Braham was raised by his father."

"Braham has made quite a legend for himself," Annhilda said. "You should be proud."

Braham saluted them, equally awkwardly. "It's my great honour to meet you all. I've heard stories of your deeds since I was young."

"What's that?" Zojja asked, pointing at the torch. "Looks… arcane."

"It is," Marjory said. "A torch of divine fire, to light the Forgotten runes."

"Poetry doesn't explain much," Zojja said.

"Oddly, I was being quite literal," Marjory said.

"Shall we head out, then?" Annhilda asked Hope's Legacy.

Caoilfhionn started. "This instant? But it's evening…"

"Good time to travel, in this environment. Trahearne's called us all off active duty so we could assist you as soon as you got back. We're all ready to go."

"I'd like something to eat first," Caoilfhionn said. "We've been buried in Special Collections for the last three days and food was not a priority."

"Acceptable," Annhilda said. "Damara, can you rustle that up?"

Damara waved and ran off, and Logan turned to them with an air of curiosity. "So really, what is the torch for? Is it something to do with the thing you were talking about before? You know… the… the egg?"

"Yes," Caoilfhionn said. "You still haven't heard from Caithe?"

"No, not at all," Zojja said. "Don't be too angry with her. She's independent and stubborn."

Caoilfhionn cast a skeptical eye on Zojja, who he considered to be so twice as much as Caithe, but moving on… "Caithe is one of us," Eir assured them. "She's saved all our lives at least once. I don't think you have to worry. She's just… rash."

"Ah, she's not the only one," Annhilda said indulgently. "But it is rather bothersome that she's leading us about on this goose chase when we're about to launch our greatest attack yet."

"Yes, I-" Logan began, when there was a cry from the south gate.

"We're under attack!"

"Blast it," Rhyoll grumbled. "Why now?"

"Stations, everyone!" Trahearne cried from behind them in the Seraph camp, running out to join them, Caladbolg shining in his grasp. "Hello, Caoilfhionn."

"Hello, Trahearne!" His hunger and weariness were forgotten; adrenaline flooded his body as he ran with his lover to the south gate to fight the Mordrem surging against the cannons there. There were so many! Even with the cannons, with the archers and musketeers on the low wall, the Mordrem came up as fast as they fell, coming on so swiftly – and there were vines behind the wall! He blew a breath of fire across the ground, and many of the shorter vines withered and shrivelled in the flames – but more came. How could one fight an enemy that continuously replenished itself thus!?

Trahearne observed them coolly, then looked to an Asura nearby. "Tell the fleet to ready an air strike."

"On our own camp!?" gasped the Asura.

"As a measure of last resort – but we must be prepared."

"Yes, sir!" The Asura scampered off.

Not a minute later, the charging Mordrem husks were at the wall, pounding on it, forcing the archers and musketeers back from the edge. The mages were picking up the weight, elementalists and mesmers and necromancers blasting arcane death indiscriminately into the seething torrent of living vegetative matter. The melee fighters took a staggered formation in front of them, ready to defend with cold steel while allowing space for spells to pass between them.

But then all eyes turned skyward, and the formation broke and scattered as a massive thorny vine plunged from the darkened sky into their midst. As it met the ground, clusters of vines only slightly smaller sprang up about it, tearing the cannons from their housings, rending tents, coiling about unlucky soldiers and strangling or impaling them. The air was filled with screams and creaking sounds. A Charr near Caoilfhion cursed roundly.

"Fall back!" Trahearne cried over the din, somehow keeping his voice steady – Caoilfhionn knew his own would not be – and pointing towards the centre of camp. "Rally to me!"

"The north gate is under attack!" yelled Braham, repeated a moment later by Damara, as an actual Pact officer.

"Annhilda, to the north, push them back! We'll hold them here!"

"Got it, Marshal! Hope's Legacy, move it!"

He followed in her long-legged wake, casting spells of Water as he ran to give his allies some relief before they got there. Things were just as desperate to the north as they had been to the south, though. If they could hold out here, then reinforce the south, they could retake the camp, but that was a big 'if' right now…

"By the Pale Tree," gasped a voice beside him, and he looked to see Eithne, her green eyes wide with uncertainty. She lifted her shortbow, but her hands were shaking. "There are so many!"

"Keep shooting," Caoilfhionn advised her. "Just keep shooting until we prevail." Though it was fully night now, and Caoilfhionn could barely tell friend from foe – especially with the smoke from the guns and cannons and accidental fires, and the gaseous clouds given off by the Mordrem. At least the Mordrem had those ghastly shapes to distinguish them. "I'll protect you."

"I'll not disappoint you," she said; that was all she needed to hear to take heart again, it seemed.

"Incoming!" shouted Rhyoll, and another of those massive vines arced down right onto the gate, shattering it instantly, sending up vines to rip apart the cannons and snake threateningly towards the defenders.

"Fall back to Marshal Trahearne!" Annhilda called. "Defend the armoury!"

The Pact ground forces were pressed into a semicircle in front of the armoury, giving as good as they got, but Caoilfhionn couldn't see an end to the Mordrem. Determination was fading to desperation, hope flickering in his heart… the Mordrem couldn't have unlimited reinforcements, could they?

"Someone grab a flare," Trahearne ordered over the din. "Call in the air strike! Everyone else, get to cover! Get to the cliffs! Protect yourselves and each other!"

"I've got the flare," Phiadi cried, jumping forward, darting around and under the masses of husks. When a wolf got in her way, she sent her minions to tackle it and ran on by. Caoilfhionn found Trahearne grabbing his arm, dragging him north to the shelter of the cliff, blocking a wolf that lunged at them with the flat of Caladbolg's blade. Phiadi's flare went up, a red rocket arcing into the night from the watchtower rock.

The fleet was moving, stooping low over the camp; the belly guns unfurled on the lead ship, and the camp exploded. Not all at once, but south to north, one ship after another, heavy ordnance chewing through the huge vines and tossing the Mordrem units around like rag dolls. Splinters flew everywhere like chaff, and Caoilfhionn covered his head.

Trahearne cheered as the airships passed by and the bombing run ceased, most uncharacteristic of him – but there were no more moving plants in the camp besides Sylvari. The soldiers picked themselves up slowly, looking around at the destruction; even the Charr seemed dumbstruck by what had just happened. The giant vines had withdrawn, and the remains left behind were scattered across the cratered ground – along with not a few Pact bodies. Most of them had been dead before the bombing run and were now extra-dead and blown apart, but perhaps some of them were still alive-! "Medics!" Trahearne shouted. "Anyone who knows anything about first aid, move! Now!"

Caoilfhionn ran out with the others, channelling Water to help. Trahearne was near him, weaving his own healing spells. Ruadhan was already there; this was his calling, his main skill, and he was putting it to use, his gentle hands binding wounds and soothing burns, with a quirky smile and saucy word to keep his patients' spirits up as he did so.

They'd lost so many, yet not as many as they might have. The camp was a grim scene, completely destroyed from one end to the other, though fortunately the armoury and docking stations still stood untouched. They worked hard in the darkness of the night, trying to find everyone who still breathed and take care of them, even if they were not going to be in any shape to fight. And the Asura waypoint had been hit during the attack; they would not be able to use it to move wounded in or out right now.

Trahearne assembled the leadership after half an hour of frantic medical work. "All right, everyone. We got lucky that we were mostly loaded up for launch. We won't get lucky again. I want all the wounded headed east to Ulta Metamagicals and Mrot Boru by sunrise. Don't bother repairing the camp unless something's actively about to explode, finish loading the ships instead. I want a final headcount and complete update at sunrise too."

"Yes, sir!" chorused the officers, and hurried off.

Trahearned turned to Phiadi. "Thank you for getting the flare. You've been invaluable."

"Of course I have," Phiadi said. "But anyone could have done it."

"But you did do it. Now – will you be here for launch?"

"Destiny's Edge absolutely will," Logan said. "It would kill morale if everyone went after Caithe and her burden." Zojja cleared her throat in an exaggerated fashion, and Logan levelled a finger at her. "Don't even start."

"I have to go after Caithe," Caoilfhionn said. "It's my responsibility. And I don't know if I'll find her there. But if anyone would rather be certain of catching the launch, don't let me stop you."

Trahearne took his hand. "Caoilfhionn, you know I can't stand the thought of you being vulnerable in unknown territory. Take your whole guild, if they're willing."

Annhilda gave him a hard look. "Yes, you don't know what you're going to run into out there. Our target is too important to leave to chance. And, the more of us there are, if we _do_ run into trouble, the faster we'll get out of it."

"Yeah, Wolf pack!" Braham cheered. "I'm going."

In the end, almost everyone said they would come with him. Rhyoll did not, saying he'd rather stay with the fleet and keep it in the air.

"Thank you," Caoilfhionn said, bowing to them all. "I am grateful."

"And look," Logan said to him. "Caithe is a linear thinker. She takes everything literally. If she took the egg, it's because she felt it was necessary. She does nothing without a reason."

"Thank you, Logan," Caoilfhionn said. "That's reassuring."

"Then get some rest," Trahearne said. "You'll want to start early tomorrow to have any chance of getting back from the Far Silverwastes before launch hour, especially with the waypoint destroyed."

"And you?" Caoilfhionn asked.

"I'll rest tomorrow," Trahearne said. "I have to shepherd this army through the night. I'll wake you if there's another emergency. Go sleep."

* * *

And when Caoilfhionn woke in the ashen grey of dawn, Trahearne was just stumbling into his still-intact tent. "Good morning, beloved."

"Good morning," Trahearne said, his words not quite as precise as usual. Caoilfhionn finished putting on his boots and went to embrace him, his affection stirred by his lover's hard-working weariness.

"Rest well," he said to him with a fond smile. "You've done so much for everyone."

"Mm," Trahearne mumbled, and kissed him. "At least we know that bombing will work as expected on the vines, now. Tuck me in?"

Caoilfhion laughed, and steered him to the cot, where Trahearne sat heavily – and then dragged Caoilfhionn into his lap. "I can't stay long. You know that."

"How are you so energetic with so little sleep?" Trahearne asked.

Caoilfhionn laughed again. "Cycle of Dawn, beloved. I'll be cranky later, but right now it's a new day, and I have important things to do." But it was tempting to stay just a bit longer, to feel Trahearne's arms about him, his warmth against him, his bitter green scent musky with smoke and dust and a tinge of blood. To look into those sleepy yellow eyes, tracing the rougher patches of bark on his face with his thumbs, and kiss those firm lips, just one more time… and perhaps one more time after that…

Trahearne let go of him and lay back; Caoilfhionn got up, and true to his word, covered him with the light blanket and kissed him again. "Sleep well, my knight. I'll see you when I'm back."

"Have a good adventure, my… prince…" Trahearne murmured, and fell asleep in the middle of the next kiss.


	33. A Fleet of Airships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [Chasing Daybreak](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnO4rSFl1eI) from FE3H for the dragon fight!

33: A Fleet of Airships

It took longer to get to the Far Silverwastes than Caoilfhionn had anticipated, and he began to worry that they would not make it back in time… but that had always been a possibility, and Trahearne knew about it, and understood, so he tried not to worry too much about it. Lighting the runes with the magic torch opened a portal to them, revealing a tall, pitch-black tunnel that wound deep into the ground. They went slowly, following Annhilda with the torch, conversing in low murmurs that echoed through the tunnel, their footsteps scrunching on the sandy floor. Caoilfhionn caught sight of large cobwebs and – yes, they had to fight spiders briefly to get by. Caithe, if she was here, had probably just run by them unseen.

Wegaff tugged at his sleeve partway down the tunnel. "Hey, while we have a moment, I wanted to talk to you. You remember the vision from the Eternal Alchemy device?"

"I do," Caoilfhionn said in a low voice. It had been imprinted on him indelibly, and he still didn't understand it, still found his mind a wash of confused feelings to think about it.

"If it is true that Tyria is, essentially, a vast mechanism and the dragons are part of it, then shouldn't it stand to reason that killing them is not necessarily the right thing to do?"

"Huh?" Of all the people he thought might be a dragon apologist, Wegaff had not been one of them…

"No, no, I know what you're thinking, I mean machines generally don't work so well when they've parts removed. And yes, I'm aware of all the things they do that threaten our civilization, including the fact that the world will end when they consume all the magic, and that the world will also end if there's too much magic. And we know that the dragons were defeated ten thousand years ago, but we _don't_ know at what cost. What if killing these dragons makes the surviving ones stronger? How are we going to defeat the last one? What other issues are going to come up as their number dwindles?"

"We can't just leave off," Caoilfhionn said. "They already threaten to consume us all. If the world is out of balance by our actions, we cannot stop halfway."

"Aye, but I wonder if we'll come to regret it in the end."

"I can't think that way," Caoilfhionn said. "What if – we have Glint's egg, right? Glint was not evil, and her child would not be at birth, either. All things have a right to grow! So if we, through the years, centuries, however long, raise this egg to become a dragon who understands us as she did, then when it becomes old and strong enough to be an Elder Dragon, perhaps we will find a way to live in harmony with it, to break this harmful cycle. And we should need the children of the other dragons as well, to keep the balance. And seek to find a balance without leading to deadly static." Maybe not even to break the cycle, just to tone it down so that neither dragons nor mortals had to lose their lives.

Wegaff scoffed. "I don't think that's possible. Us non-dragons don't live long enough to keep such a relationship going. It would go wrong eventually."

"Maybe that's what we Sylvari were born for," Caoilfhionn said. "No one knows how old we can live, yet. Perhaps we will live long enough to turn from slayers of dragons to wardens of dragons."

"I'm not saying we can or should stop fighting dragons," Wegaff said. "But I think we should also not be surprised if the Eternal Alchemy suddenly flips on its head at some point because of what we're doing."

"I will be surprised," Caoilfhionn said, smiling. "I won't be able to help it."

"Oh yes, I will probably be too, when it happens. But I won't be surprised that it happened."

"What's that up ahead?" Annhilda said, lifting the divine torch yet higher – but there was a strange gleam from ahead, that did not come from reflecting the light she bore.

They rounded a corner, and everyone stopped in wonder. "Oh, what is this place?" Kasmeer cried.

They'd come out into a massive cavern, and everywhere they looked was gold. The stones were gold, the ruins across from them were gold, even half the jungle plants about them were shining gold. It was all lit by some unseen source of light, perhaps from the sheer concentration of ancient magic there, soft and even and warm. There was a shimmer in the air, as if each gasp set the stones to ringing harmoniously.

"Hmm," Wegaff said. "This will bear analyzing. Surely these stones are not actually solid gold."

"I wish it were, though," Braham said. "Can you imagine what Hoelbrak could build with it?"

"A new lodge honouring one of the Spirits, maybe," Annhilda said.

"It's so beautiful," Caoilfhionn said. "I hope I can show Trahearne, later."

"Didn't your vision have a golden location in it?" Marjory asked.

He shook himself. "It did. But I don't think it was here. It was far greater than this. This is… a taste of what I'm looking for."

"What we're looking for," Damara said. "Well, we're on the right track, then! Weird, how all these things are intersecting. We went to find a clue about Caithe, and found a clue to the egg instead."

"Well, Caithe has the egg, so that works for me," Phiadi said. "Can you get on with it? We still have a launch to catch."

"Right," Caoilfhionn said, drawing the last seed from his coat and following where it led him – to an alcove with a sleeping sack tucked in it. Caithe's, perhaps? There was nothing to mark whose it was, but this was the place. He bent to plant the seed…

* * *

He woke not very much later, though the magical light had not changed down here, and sat up, tired and confused and upset.

"Caithe has a lot of rough memories, huh," Damara said. He nodded mutely. "She's here, by the way."

He jumped up and ran out to where the others were staring; she was standing on the other side of the cavern, near the tunnel entrance, carrying a large backpack woven of leaves on her back. No doubt the egg was inside.

"Caithe," he said, as he got closer, and stopped. He didn't know what to say.

"How did you find this place?" Caithe asked, though she sounded more curious than angry. But still wary. She was not here to give him the egg, he could tell that much.

"Mother gave me memory seeds."

She stiffened. "Then you know. What Wynne told me, and what I did."

"Yes. Is it true?"

"Which part?" She shook her head regretfully. "Yes… it's all true."

"Why was Wynne the only one to know?" he cried. "How do we not all know?"

"Caoilfhionn, what are you talking about?" Annhilda asked quietly from behind him.

"Her Dream revealed it to her," Caithe said. "Protecting us from that truth was her Wyld Hunt. If we all knew, everyone in the world would know – and then they would hate us and kill us."

"You're not who I thought you were," he said, angry and upset – he'd looked up to her so much, and her selfishness, her mistakes had destroyed what he had known of her.

"None of us are who others perceive us to be," Caithe said steadily. "My actions put the future of our race squarely on my shoulders."

"Now that burden is on me as well," he said. "And what do I do with it? Do I guard it like you?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," she said. "The secret will come out on its own soon enough. Already, Sylvari have been losing control of themselves. Mordremoth won't stop there."

He bowed his head and took a deep breath. "Then it is all moot. But I need you to give me the egg, right now."

"It must be protected," Caithe said, backing away.

"I will protect it! This task was given to me."

"You and I are on the same side. Don't ever forget that, Caoilfhionn."

"Caithe-" He was cut off by a resounding snarl, and the same dragon champion that had attacked the Pale Mother squeezed through the tunnel, hurling itself towards them.

"The Dragon's Shadow is upon us!" Caithe cried, and ran, vanishing from sight.

Third time paid for all, he minded himself as the dragon crashed into their midst, summoning minions from the sands and roaring at them. Vines sprang up around them, not the prickly strangling sort, but they formed barriers around them, separating them all from each other. But he was in the ring with the dragon, with Annhilda and Phiadi. It would not escape this time; it could not fly in here. They'd never get a better chance.

He didn't take his eyes off it as it crept around the edge of the ring, dodging as it lunged to swat at them with a hefty claw, as it lowered its head to breathe corruption at them. His sap thrummed in his veins as he slashed with fire and stone at the vines in his way, getting up close to it – but it drew back, drawing vines before itself, as if to taunt him. Laranthir's arrows were still stuck in its face around its eyes.

Annhilda lifted the white torch high and swung it with a shout, scorching the vines away, opening a path to the dragon. He didn't need a second invitation and bolted forward, slamming into the dragon's shoulder with lightning, rolling away before it could turn and bite him. Phiadi's minions rushed past him and launched themselves at it mindlessly as she cursed the ground beneath it, trying to drain its lifeforce.

It slammed down its foot nearly on top of him; he dodged but was sent tumbling back, rolling over and over on the cool sand. He picked himself up to see Annhilda running forward with her sword and the torch. It really didn't seem to like that torch much – if only they could spread its fire-!

He skidded forward on heels of flame, reaching out to the torch to see if he could channel its particular magic, for a time at least, and felt its unfamiliar flow pass to him, like a piece of a cloud. "What are you doing?" Annhilda exclaimed.

His hands were glowing white and his fire sparkled like diamonds. "Let's force it into a corner! Block the exit so it can't get away!"

"Haha! I like the way you think."

"It thought we were trapped in here with it, but really it's trapped in here with us!" Phiadi said.

"It's a good thing Trahearne insisted we all come along," Kasmeer said from the other side of the vines. "Imagine if it had only been the three or four of you."

"No, let's not imagine that," Rox said. "Teragriff on your left!"

"Thanks!"

Caoilfhionn had been carving a huge arc in the sand with his dagger, leaving a trail of white fire; Annhilda was ahead of him, burning away vines before him, and Phiadi was fighting strangling shadows and more vines beside him. The dragon was lunging at them, but still shying away from the fire, screeching at them – no, at _him_. He was the one it wanted; could it have remembered him from the Grove? Was it connected to the egg?

Well, he wasn't fighting for mere survival anymore. He was fighting with his friends to slay it for good.

The circle was perhaps three-fourths complete when the dragon roared, slamming its paws into the ground and sending up a wave of stone towards them. Annhilda backpedalled before it struck her, but there were more vines coming up in the wake of the stones, big ones, thick ones. Phiadi summoned a new set of minions with a venomous hiss – and was slapped away by a vine.

The dragon roared and sprang forward, and its left foot landed on Annhilda, crushing her to the ground. Caoilfhionn shouted in concern; the torch rolled away from her limp hand. The dragon's eyes were on him, and it took a couple more steps towards him, tensing to spring.

He struck first, taking back to Lightning and tearing towards the torch, snatching it up and rolling under the dragon's jaws. Determination surged through him with every breath, and he sprang to the attack, thrusting the torch into the dragon's face and letting loose with all his power.

White flame erupted before him and washed over the dragon, which screamed and stumbled away, wings flapping uselessly in the enclosed space. Its face was horribly charred, and he pursued it as the vines gave way before him, as it fled towards the ruins at the back of the cave. It tried to climb them, but lost its grip and tumbled to the sandy floor again. Its exposed throat was right in front of him and he stabbed the torch into the twined branches there, channelling through the torch, and the entire dragon caught ablaze like a pyre.

He stood there a moment, panting, watching it burn from nose to tail, making sure it would never rise again. Then Braham whooped from behind him. "Awesome!"

"Well done, pup," Annhilda's voice said creakily from behind him, and he turned to see her sitting up with Damara trying to heal her injuries. "Stop fussing, I'm just bruised and winded."

"You got stepped on by a _dragon_ ," Damara pointed out. "It could have been a lot worse."

"But it isn't."

"The perfect warm-up to take down Mordremoth!" Braham said.

"Are you going to be all right?" Caoilfhionn asked anxiously, hurrying back to them.

Annhilda grinned. "Yeah. Really. Just bruised."

"But we lost Caithe," Kasmeer said. "I'm glad we won, but we didn't really gain anything…"

"We gained some revenge for the Pale Tree," Caoilfhionn said. "Every Sylvari will be pleased. Surely Mordremoth cannot summon another lieutenant like that in a hurry."

"True," Marjory said. "But now where do we look for her?"

Braham growled. "I've had it with her secrets. I know my mother trusts her, but I don't. She took the egg and we need to get it back."

"Perhaps Destiny's Edge will have an idea where she's gone now," Kasmeer said. "I know they didn't before, but perhaps they will now? With the new things we've learned?"

"I doubt it," Phiadi said. "You heard Logan earlier. They didn't talk about personal things."

"Either way, we should get back," Damara said, helping Annhilda to her feet. "I have no idea what time it is in here, but we're pretty late. And we can't use the waypoint, it's broken."

With no warning at all, there was a burst of intrusive pain in his head – and a burst of tight fear in his chest. He fell to his knees, clutching at both, gasping at the suddenness.

"Caoilfhionn! What's wrong-?" He could hear a confused cluster of voices around him, dimly.

Slowly, he recovered himself as that rumbling pain in his head left him, but the fear in his chest remained. And he recognized it, though before such feelings had been faint. "Trahearne!" He was bonded to his love, even at this distance, and shared dimly his joys, his sorrows… and now his pain and stress, sharp and clear in its intensity.

"What?" Annhilda knelt in front of him. "Caoilfhionn, please tell us what's going on."

He looked up at her. "Something's happened to the fleet. Trahearne is in danger."

"They must have launched," Braham said. "We're really late."

"What else?" Annhilda said. "You and Caithe were talking about secrets, and she said it was all going to come out. Can you explain, or is it not time yet?"

He sighed. "Mordremoth created the Sylvari. We are not susceptible to it because we are plants like it is. We are susceptible to it because we are intended to be its minions."

"What," chorused most of the group.

"The Dragon called… and I fear many of my people answered against their will."

"Is that what happened with Aerin and Scarlet?" Phiadi asked.

"Yes. The Mother Tree protects us with the Dream," Caoilfhionn said, thinking back to what she had said before, thinking back to his vision of the Eternal Alchemy. "Aerin was one of the Soundless, and Ceara too rejected our Mother, so they did not have her protection. But even with her protection, the Dragon is very strong."

"Can we trust you?" Annhilda said, looking closely into his eyes.

He looked back steadily. "Yes. I know who I am. _You_ know who I am. If I cease to be that person, I trust you will be able to kill me before I hurt anyone." He didn't allow himself to think too closely about what that would be like. He couldn't let anything distract him from the goals setting in his heart like steel. His Wyld Hunt baying like a pack of hounds, his vital quest to protect the dragon egg, and most insistent of all, his heart's unyielding desire to see Trahearne safe again.

"Kill you!?" Damara cried. "There's no cure?"

"There wasn't a cure for the Risen," Caoilfhionn said, pushing himself to his feet. "I think as long as we fight, we can be saved. But it's like the Nightmare – once we are lost, we are lost forever."

"That's terrible," Kasmeer said. "I'm so sorry."

"This is our punishment for being immune to the other dragons, I guess," Caoilfhionn said. "But first and foremost, I have to get to Trahearne. I fear something terrible has happened."

"You don't think _he's_ been taken over…" Phiadi said.

"No. He has a very strong mind, and loves the Mother Tree. But he's in danger in other ways."

"Well, I trust you," Annhilda said. "You're part of Hope's Legacy, to the end. Now let's go!"

* * *

They could not go so far without stopping to rest for the night, but even from where they were, they could see the smoke rising from the Heart of Maguuma. Caoilfhionn could not sleep, watching it through the night. He could smell it even from where they were camped. But on the next day, they made it to Amber Sandfall – and found the Pact abuzz with frantic activity there. "Thank goodness we established this position for exactly this purpose," Annhilda muttered as they looked around.

"You! Sylvari!" Two Norn and a Charr ran towards Caoilfhionn, pointing weapons at him. "Get in the corner with the others!"

Caoilfhionn gasped, taking a step back. He'd known they might have figured it out, but to see all the soldiers looking at him with fear and hostility-

"No," Annhilda said, stepping in front of him. "Caoilfhionn's in my guild, and I'm taking him with me."

"But Commander-"

"No objections!" Annhilda cried. "I trust him and so should you. You all know Caoilfhionn – if he turned it would be quite obvious. Mordremoth's corruption is not subtle."

"I… yes, Commander."

"Now what's going on over here?" In the corner was a group of Sylvari, sitting with their hands on their heads, while several Charr and humans pointed rifles at them.

"I don't understand," said one of the Sylvari, plaintively. "You know us too. We've fought and bled alongside you for the Pact."

The Charr growled. "So did the Sylvari aboard the fleet, and most turned without warning. We're not taking any more chances with you."

"But I don't feel any different. I'm still me, still a loyal member of the Pact." The other Sylvari nodded.

The rifles didn't move. "You're also a dragon minion. You could be an enemy and not know it."

"This is preposterous. We're not a threat!"

"Maybe not, but we can't take that risk. You're all confined to quarters until this is over."

"Hello," Damara said, stepping in, and the Charr turned and saluted her.

"Commander Damara!"

"We don't have time to deal with this now," Damara said. "We're needed where the Fleet went down. But don't mistreat them. Remember every one of them is here because they wanted to fight against Mordremoth."

"Yes, Commander."

Caoilfhionn followed Annhilda, his stomach churning with nerves. She stopped only long enough for them to gather fresh supplies and what sparse intel they could get, and then headed back out to the canyon that led west through the cliffs into the jungle. The sooner, the better – they were all watching him with unfriendly eyes and it made his skin crawl. The Pact had looked on him fondly before, as the Marshal's lover, and this aboutface shook him deeply.

"This all has… Frostbite a little anxious," Rox muttered to Braham as they headed out. "I mean, because Destiny's Edge was on board. I hope they're okay…"

Braham nodded and muttered back. "I'm with Frostbite. Hope's Legacy, Destiny's Edge, and airships killed Zhaitan. How did it go so wrong this time?"

"We're about to see for ourselves," Marjory said.

"Oh, look who it is!" Kasmeer cried, and waved.

Taimi was standing near the canyon mouth on top of her golem, waving at them. "Hey, boss! Rata Sum was all abuzz over the Pact Fleet disaster. I knew you'd be going in, so I came to pitch in. Scruffy and I gave these locals a lesson in Mordrem bashing while we waited for you. Oh, and Canach here helped, too."

"Yes… I 'helped'," Canach muttered darkly. "And I thought the Firstborn were full of themselves." He huffed and looked at Annhilda. "Commander. Countess Anise sent me to support you and represent the Shining Blade in the fight against Mordremoth."

"Understood," Annhilda said. "You'll probably be safer with us, anyway. How did you hear about it so quickly in Rata Sum, Taimi?"

"Good chain of communication, I guess," Taimi said, and shrugged. "By now, probably all of Tyria knows about it. I mean, this is top-priority news, and Rata Sum's awfully close to the Heart of the jungle if things get worse."

"And some news takes months to disseminate," Phiadi complained under her breath.

"And how'd you get here so quickly?" Braham asked.

"A few friends in the right places, and Scruffy runs faster than you might think."

"The jungle won't contain Mordremoth for long," Canach said. "I also have an obvious personal stake in defeating the jungle dragon. In any case, I am at your disposal."

"Good," Annhilda said. "We're going in. Follow me."

It took an eternity – or an hour – to traverse the tunnel that led from the desert of the Silverwastes to the humidity of the Heart of Maguuma. He could smell it halfway – and smoke, stronger than before. Finally, finally, they came out into smoggy clouded daylight. A promentory was before him, jutting bare over the jungle depths, and he ran ahead of the others to see.

The jungle stretched out before him, a twisted mass of gigantic vines and burning airships. He had not imagined – could not have imagined – the extent of the destruction. He could not hear the others' shock and horror through his own fear and grief. "Trahearne!"


	34. The Agony of Hope

34: The Agony of Hope

He was numb as he knelt helplessly on the clifftop; before him flickered an endless sea of leaves and flames. His sap was frozen within his veins, his breath choked off in his lungs, and there were tears in his eyes. All he could do was stare in disbelief and fear. The _Glory of Tyria_ was impaled in three places, held aloft by vines of the same girth as the Pale Tree, her lovely dragonfly wings shattered. She was lying on her side, no sign of movement on her decks, and the fire still burning within suggested that there were no survivors on her now.

He found Damara's hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "Hey. Hey. Caoilfhionn. Come on. We have to help. There's survivors. I'm sure they know what happened to Trahearne and the others."

Of course. No one would believe that Trahearne would be killed in the first attack... would he? And yet he couldn't breathe until he knew for sure. And there was that pressure in his head, faint but insistent. Damara helped him to his feet, her jungle spider skittering behind her.

Wegaff was on his other side. "Come on, you're the brave one. We're a team, don't forget." He nodded.

"Stay sharp," Annhilda was saying, cutting off everyone else's shocked murmurs. "Mordremoth may have hit the Pact hard, but it's up to us to pick up the pieces. Let's go down- Braham!"

Braham was already running full tilt down the slope towards a small cluster of Pact soldiers huddled within a large ring-shaped piece of wreckage. "Hey! I'm Eir Stegalkin's son. I want to know where she is."

"Braham, you can't just run off like that," Annhilda warned him as they came up behind. "We're in enemy territory." And night was falling, rapidly, the sky covered in thick grey clouds past the black smoke.

"Commander!" cried Laranthir of the Wild, sitting strangely still in the centre of the ring as the other Pact soldiers watched him carefully. "You're a welcome sight. The situation is grim."

"You can say that again," Annhilda said. "I'm glad you survived. Give me everything you know."

"Trahearne and Destiny's Edge were taken prisoner," Laranthir said, and Caoilfhionn's legs folded under him. Thank the Pale Tree, he was alive. He could be rescued. "They were alive, but now MIA. And the remaining soldiers no longer trust me."

"And you're surprised?" Marjory said. "Scarlet, Aerin, and now this. Mordremoth always uses Sylvari to do its dirtiest work."

"Marjory?" Damara said, as surprised as Caoilfhionn at the sudden attack. "That's not their fault."

"Any word on Rhyoll and the other engineers?" Annhilda asked.

Laranthir shook his head. "I do not know. Their ship was much further down the line from the _Glory_. I know many ships continued the attack; we can only guess where they went after we went down."

The Charr Priory Explorer in front of Laranthir glared at him, her hand on her gun. "First things first. We need to strengthen the defenses around here. Our priority has to be salvaging weapon parts from the crash site."

"What about our comrades in the cavern?" asked Laranthir, gesturing carefully to the northwest. "The Pact does not abandon its own."

"Look around, ' _sir_ '," said Explorer Metella. "There _is_ no more Pact. And the prisoners you want to save are probably already dead."

"Think it through, soldier," Laranthir said, a touch of his Warmaster tone coming through. "We need greater numbers, or any salvage party we send will disappear like the others."

"Those imprisoned soldiers are all Sylvari. They're not worth the risk. Even if they're still on our side, who says they're alive and ready to fight?"

Braham had been fidgeting, and he flung up his hands now. "This isn't helping. Just tell us where Destiny's Edge is. Please."

"All right, quiet, all of you," Annhilda said. "Whatever else may be true right now, the Pact is _not_ dead. I need to think. Damara, Phiadi, do you think we can do both of these?"

"Sure," Damara said. "We'll need a group to head out on a rescue, a group to head out for salvage, and a group to defend this position since we've got this lovely wall to keep the Mordrem out."

"The above-ground ones, anyway," Phiadi said. "I'll agree with Damara. As long as these minions stay professional and obey orders without whinging, we can resurrect this."

"All right, then," Annhilda said. "Listen up, everyone! We've suffered a serious setback, but we're far from beaten. Laranthir is still your commanding officer, and he has my full confidence. Clear?"

"Yes, Commander!" said an Asura Vigil Crusader. "Crusader Gatt, reporting for duty!"

"Laranthir, you and Damara are leading the search-and-rescue team. Phiadi, you're with Metella leading the salvage team. I'm going to fortify this position."

"It's not worth risking more lives to save Sylvari prisoners," said Metella. "They're already gone. Sylvari belong to Mordremoth."

"You're a fool," Canach retorted. "Only weak-willed Sylvari are vulnerable. The rest of us fight back."

"All right. Damara, who do you want on your team?" Annhilda asked.

"I'd like to go," said the Asura Crusader. "I believe in you, Warmaster."

"Thank you, Gatt," said Laranthir.

"Okay, then you, and Caoilfhionn, and Canach, and Rox and Braham," Damara said. "Sound fair?"

"Sounds good to me," Annhilda said. "Get going. Phiadi, who are you taking?"

"Good luck," Wegaff said to Caoilfhionn.

Damara nodded to Laranthir, who stretched, shook himself, and gestured for them to follow him. He led them away from the camp to the base of a small cliff, where there was an ancient archway over a tunnel of stairs leading downwards. Caoilfhionn tried to control his breathing. Being on the move, having something to do, it helped. He wondered if it was the same for Braham.

There was a call from above and ahead. "Can anyone hear me? We're up here!"

"Look, stairs," Crusader Gatt said, pointing. Caoilfhionn stared at him a brief moment longer than necessary. His voice was... not important. He had to focus now.

They dashed up the stairs and into a camp of – oh no. There were Mordrem here, but not the ones they had seen before. These were no mindless husks and animalistic beasts. These were... people, plant people, like horrifying, monstrous cousins to Sylvari. Their eyes glowed red like the beast types, their faces near-skeletal, their bodies armoured in heavy bark. Nothing about them was beautiful, only purely functional.

And they spoke. "Welcome, fodder. So nice of you to come to us. Mordremoth has plans for you all."

"Get us out of here!" cried one of the Pact Sylvari, in a vine cage.

"Get them!" yelled Damara. "Braham and Canach in front! Everyone else, shoot straight and keep your eyes on those rifles! Caoilfhionn, get those cages open! Murlie, hit that big guy for me, will you?" Her jungle spider chattered and skittered forward, tiny feet tapping on the rocky ground, spitting poison at the Mordrem.

Caoilfhionn flung himself at the nearest cage, ripping it apart with his daggers. The Sylvari inside grinned at him. "I knew someone would come for us. Thanks!"

"Ready to fight?" he asked her, adrenaline rushing through his own body.

"Yes, sir!"

Together they ran to the next cage. "Caoilfhionn!" said the Sylvari inside.

"Mabbran!" Caoilfhionn set him free. "You're wounded!" He cast healing Water on him, on his brow where sap had run down, on his bleeding leg.

"I'm fine," Mabbran said. "I'm ready to kill the enemy. All I need is my rifle and a clear line of sight."

"Where is it?" Caoilfhionn said, looking about.

"Lost in the jungle, probably, sadly," said the first Sylvari. "Let's grab some of theirs."

"I like this idea," said Mabbran.

"Look out," barked Rox, shoving them as one of the enemy fired one of those strange rifles. It burnt a line through the dark evening air next to them, light lingering ominously where it had been.

"There is no escape. You will all serve the Jungle Dragon," said the tallest Mordrem, a hulking brute swinging his hammer at Canach, who dodged nimbly away. Caoilfhionn zapped himself to the sniper, stunning her and stabbing her – but her bark armour-skin was thick, and his blade glanced off. Before he could follow up with anything, she had recovered, swinging her rifle at his head and rolling away as he ducked.

Suddenly that distant pressure that still buzzed in his head grew stronger, and he heard a booming voice saying " _This world is mine._ "

Mabbran hissed. "Dammit, not again."

"That's going to get old quick," said the other Sylvari. They were both behind him, weaponless, looking to help him corner the sniper and take her rifle. The sniper dodged again, then took aim at him, nearly at point-blank range. He hissed and flung himself out of the way as one of those beams lanced at him.

An arrow pierced her throat and she slumped, the rifle falling from her hands. "There you go!" Rox called.

Mabbran had blinked forward before the other Sylvari could, catching the rifle before it hit the ground. "Yours next, Heulwen." Caoilfhionn had turned to the next cage. There were still too many cages about.

As he reached it, he stumbled as a rumble crashed through his mind like dark lightning. " _I am the reason you exist. I am the purpose you serve. Obey me!_ "

"Ignore his voice!" Laranthir cried. "We are the children of the Pale Tree! We are members of the Pact! Mordremoth is our enemy!"

"Aye!" cheered the Pale Reavers around him, even the ones who were obviously struggling. Caoilfhionn lifted his head. He knew who he was. The whispers, the foreign urge to attack his friends, they could not confuse him. His purpose was to find Trahearne. He wrenched open the cage.

When all the Mordrem lay dead, they freed the last few Sylvari he'd not made it to. It was nearly completely dark under those clouded smokey skies, and it was difficult to return where they had been. Even with a couple lanterns, and Caoilfhionn's magic to illuminate their steps, the jungle was confusing and unfamiliar, and the camp's fire would not be visible through the wreckage that shielded it and the cliffs that separated them. Rox sniffed out the trail somehow, and they made their way wearily to the wreckage where the Pact forces were encamped. They were challenged by a scout, and made ready answer.

"You're back," Annhilda said, as they trooped into the firelight, Laranthir coming to attention before her, Damara copying him. "Good. Anyone who knows anything about turrets, come help over here. Everyone else, go rest. It's a long time until daylight."

"I don't like this," said Explorer Metella. "So many crazies. Keep those twigs away from me, or I'll use them as kindling."

Canach sneered at her. "Did you just condemn my entire race? It seems the Dragon brings out the worst in you, too."

"Hey!" Annhilda said. "What did I _just_ say!?"

"We met a Pact Sylvari on the way," Kasmeer explained. "He... it was awful. The Dragon took his mind right in front of us. We had to kill him. We... made it quick."

"How horrible," Caoilfhionn murmured. Then winced as Mordremoth's voice rumbled again.

" _Kill them or cripple them. Then bring them to me._ "

He got up and went to Annhilda. "He's speaking again... I fear we may be attacked very soon."

"Good to know," Annhilda said, glancing at the others. Some of them were holding their heads, but most were trying to show no reaction. "Everyone, ready up! We're-"

A beam of red light burned through the middle of camp, striking one of the Pale Reavers in the chest. She died with a pained gasp, her chest a smoking crater. Everyone sprang up, Damara already loosing an arrow in the direction of the beam. "Metella, get us some light!" Annhilda shouted, charging from the camp, shield forward. "Support each other, try not to get sniped!"

There was a loud click, and floodlights bathed the ground in front of the camp in brilliant white light, bright as noon, harsh shadows stretching behind everything in front of the lights. Caoilfhionn squinted, his sensitive eyes pained by the sudden light, but the Mordrem were taken even more off-guard, shielding their eyes with weapons and hands. "Let's see them snipe us now!" Phiadi cried gleefully, and ordered her minions forward with a sweep of her scythe-like staff.

Blinking rapidly to try and recover, Caoilfhionn ran forward, though less recklessly than he normally would, sending fire raking across his enemies, dodging hideous thorny blades and misshapen bludgeoning instruments, his breath hot in his lungs. He was in a very bad mood, his head hurt, his heart hurt, and he did not have complete control of his power.

There was a flare of light off to the left, and Caoilfhionn looked in time to catch a portal opening and a strange-looking Charr bursting out of it. He drew a flaming sword – and then Caoilfhionn knew him for Rytlock, whom Rox had said vanished into the Mists. Two mounted Mordrem charged towards him, and he swung his sword. A dragon of light rose before him and slammed into the Mordrem, through them, and they fell dead before him.

Rytlock growled ferociously. "Sharpen your blades and guard your vitals – I'm back!"

"Rytlock!" Annhilda yelled. "Good to see you. Could use your help!"

Caoilfhionn had never seen magic like that before, and apparently neither had Wegaff, because he heard a long whistle from his friend, as Rytlock jumped into the fray, Sohothin slashing with strange spells. With that sort of advantage on the Pact's side, the Mordrem soon broke off and retreated into the blackness of night. Rytlock growled at their backs and made his way across the battlefield to Annhilda. "Hope you don't mind me joining in, Commander."

"Greatly appreciated," Annhilda said. "Welcome back."

"Tribune?" Rox exclaimed. "You're alive! But where have you been? And what's that new magic you're using?"

"Later, cub. All you need to know is that I'm back and I'm better than ever. Right now we've got comrades to rescue and dragon minions to kill."

"Rytlock's right," Annhilda said. "We need to find Destiny's Edge and hit Mordremoth where it lives." She shook Rytlock's hand. "Glad to have you back, Tribune. Time for us to kill another Elder Dragon."

Laranthir approached, looking a lot less tense than he had at dusk. "Commander? I'm certain there are more Pale Reavers out there. I'd like to gather them together and take command. As a Sylvari-only unit, we can monitor and protect ourselves from threats both internal and external. If any of us show signs of... faltering, the others will do what needs to be done."

"All right," Annhilda said. "Request granted. Good luck, Laranthir."

"Did anyone overhear anything that might be useful?" Rox said to the Pale Reavers. "Especially about Destiny's Edge? We know they were taken prisoner."

"I saw Mordrem force-marching high-value prisoners west, deeper into the jungle," Mabbran said. "I can't say for certain I saw Destiny's Edge, but there was the _Glory's_ captain for one."

Annhilda clicked her tongue, thinking. "We need to gather the Pact's scattered forces before we're all picked off. We need to learn the lay of the land and how to navigate these sharp elevation changes. We need lines of supply and communication. And we need to head west to rescue as many prisoners as we can."

"Are we splitting up, then?" Braham said. "I want to scout ahead west."

"Not yet," Annhilda said. "We still have too few resources."

"Well I have a solution to the elevation changes and chasms everywhere," Phiadi said, and did a complicated summoning motion. A pair of boney wings crawled from the soil and to her shoulders, unfurling into a simple frame with spectral essence forming the webs. "We need to be able to just jump and glide from one place to another."

"Okay, that's great for you," Rox said. "But what about the rest of us? We're not necromancers, most of us, and that looks a bit flimsy for me."

"All right," Annhilda said. "Gliders. Great. We can make that happen. Just as soon as we find Rhyoll and the other smiths. So catch some rest, we're going to head north tomorrow to look for other survivors near the other crashed ships. Laranthir, you'll remain here to secure the area."

"Thank you, Commander. I'll head south, to the high ground. That's where the Pale Reavers are trained to go."

"What about the rest of us?" Metella demanded.

Annhilda shot her a glare. "If you're so determined to skip out on this fight, you can be in charge of getting the wounded back to the Silverwastes. Amber Sandfall should be secure."

Metella growled. "I'm not skipping out. I just don't want to be left here with a bunch of-" Canach cleared his throat. "...Sylvari."

"You're going to have to get over that," Annhilda said. "I can't make you trust them, but making a dolyak out of yourself from paranoia isn't going to help us beat Mordremoth either. Okay everyone! This jungle is just as deadly as we knew it was going to be, but the good news is that it can't take us all out at once. Stay together, by Wolf, and I'll get us all out of this. Now, who's got pigeons? Anyone?"

* * *

Traversing the jungle was slow going. The paths of the Heart of Maguuma were twisted and confusing – it was easy to lose one's direction following the trails that wound about, and often ended abruptly at a tall cliff, or a deep chasm. Giant vines, still holding aloft the burning wrecks of airships, were but another obstacle. The sun was often hidden behind clouds bringing thunderstorms, and even Canach's experienced woodcraft was failing him here, in this new and vicious terrain. Luckily, Rox had a good compass.

But they'd found more Pact forces, many of them concentrated in a large camp northwest of the Pale Reavers' outpost. The officers had managed to maintain order, though at the expense of all their Sylvari, who were fearfully segregated away from the other soldiers. Annhilda was enthusiastically welcomed, and the officers informed her of all they'd learned, which was not much – but Caithe had been spotted, at least. She, too, was here, for whatever reason, and Caoilfhionn knew he would have to find her soon.

Caoiflhionn's siblings Eithne and Ruadhan had not been found, and as sick with worry as he was for Trahearne, he had yet more space to worry about them. They had joined to follow him, to help him, and he would feel wretched if they had died because of- no, not because of him. Because of Mordremoth. Their ship had not been found yet, so it was possible they had escaped harm. He had to hope for that, too.

There was another worry that had not occurred to him for years: Malyck. Malyck's tree had been from this area. He had not looked like a Mordrem, but he'd had no knowledge of his parent tree, of his siblings, of the Dream of Dreams. Would he have any idea what was happening? Would he have been able to resist and retain his mind?

Annhilda was soon swimming in management and logistics issues for the troops, and left the search for missing soldiers, and Destiny's Edge, to her guild. With Rox and Canach in the lead, they scouted in all directions where the burning airships could be seen. There were many survivors scattered throughout the jungle, holding on through tenacity, or sheer luck, and these were directed back to the main camp. Every time they returned, the camp was more crowded, with more people, more tents, until it actually started to look like an army.

During one of their scouting trips, they came across a local tribe of hylek called the Itzel. They were as much under assault from the Mordrem as a the pact, and immediately welcomed an alliance. In exchange for military aid, they shared their knowledge of the jungle: what was safe to eat, how to make simple gliders, and use the air currents, and most importantly: all the Mordrem troop movements their scouts had sighted, including a remarkable prisoner transport: a single Sylvari, Human, Asura and Norn were personally escorted westward by one of the Mordrem commanders.

Through every waking hour and slithering into every dream, Mordremoth's voice hissed through the forest, constantly calling to the Sylvari, whispering when not booming, distracting them at best – Canach brushed it off as no more than a fly buzzing, but Caoilfhionn thought he was stretching the truth – and twisting them to mind-wiped foes at worst. Many Pact Sylvari gravitated towards the Pale Reavers even if they had not been part of that unit before, simply to get away from the prejudice of the non-Sylvari, to find solidarity with their siblings, to collectively shield each other against the Dragon's call.

They were constantly harassed by the Mordrem Guard, whether skirmishes with scouting parties or pitched assaults on their camps. Their defense of the jungle was far more cunning and aggressive than the Risen had been of Orr, vicious and bloody, and the Pact had to adapt rapidly or die in those first few days and nights. Their main camp seemed so small amidst everything, small and vulnerable...

Caoilfhionn found himself unable to sleep much those nights even when they were not attacked. Though he knew Trahearne to be alive, and far too valuable to kill, his heart ached for him and what he must be enduring. Trahearne knew himself, and would not be easily overcome by the Dragon's power even if Sylvari were the ones susceptible to Mordremoth's call, but if the Dragon chose to bend all his power upon Trahearne alone... could he withstand it? For surely the Marshal of the Pact would be a great prize of a champion for Mordremoth to gain, for his knowledge of _everything_ within the Pact, and for his immense power as a learned Firstborn.

Every nebulous fear he'd ever had about Trahearne had come true, and he felt angry that he had not paid more attention to them. So he lay awake at night, in a constant state of worry and weariness, unable to wander the edges of camp in case some Pact soldier took him to have gone crazy and tried to murder him.

Kasmeer came by one of those nights. "Hey, you're awake."

"I am."

She sighed sympathetically and sat beside him. He didn't mind her being there. She probably understood better than most of the others, being a bright, hopeful person whose love was a necromancer constantly in danger. "I'd tell you to try and sleep, but I know you know you ought to try and sleep. So... how are you?"

He shook his head. "I can't stop. I can't bear this waiting. I know we're not ready to go further in and it chafes me, I..." All at once everything that simmered just under his surface came welling up and tears ran down. "I can't bear this. I'd give anything – I'd give everything to have him back." Was this what Tiachren had felt when Ysvelta had been taken from him?

One of Kasmeer's warm arms wrapped about his shoulders; it was not Trahearne's arm but it was comforting just the same. "Shh, shh. You're not alone. Braham's suffering too. And we're all here for you both. But you have to keep it together until we find him. We need you so much."

He leaned into her embrace. "I can't. I can't smile for you now."

"Not now, then. I miss it, but I understand. But stay with us."

"Of course. I'll fight to the last of my strength, you can count upon that."

She touched his leaves. "What's this? You've got some yellow here."

He'd known his leaves were getting dry around the edges, particularly the little ones closer to his scalp. "It's just stress. I'll live."

"You're drinking enough water, right?"

"Yes. It's not that causing it."

She was quiet a moment. "You know what I want to do while we're here?" He didn't answer, but she continued anyway. "I saw a huge tree not far from here, or the remains of one, anyway. It's so big, I can't even imagine what it was like when it was not just a stump. I want to climb it. I imagine the view would be amazing, I think it's nearly as big as a Shiverpeak mountain. I wonder if I could see the Shiverpeaks from the top, even. Do you think such a big tree could be the ancestor of the Pale Tree?"

"Since Mordremoth made her seed, probably not," Caoilfhionn said.

"He didn't have to have made her seed out of thin air. Though it does seem to be a different type of tree... Anyway, I know we're not here to look around. We've got a mission and we're going to see it through. But this place is amazing, if you can spare the space to look."

He sighed against her shoulder. "I do not. You will have to look for me. Please, look for me."

"I'll look at everything and remember it so that after this is all over, we can come back and look around properly."

"It'll still be dangerous, I'm sure."

"As long as we don't get lost. ...Will you be able to try and rest now?"

"I'll lie down," Caoilfhionn said. "I don't know if I can sleep."

"Maybe you should try lavender tea. It helps me to sleep, at least."

"If there are any in the supplies," Caoilfhionn said. "Otherwise I will endure."

She patted his shoulder as he lay down on his side. "Sleep well, Caoilfhionn. I'll look into it."


	35. What a Lark This Is!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm diverging from canon here: Malyck. I was disappointed not to see him again. But if he does come back in future story updates, I can always edit!
> 
> You gotta love Faren. No matter the situation, that man will find a way to show up without pants. I love it.

35: What a Lark This Is!

It took them a week to find the wreck of the Mellaggan's Valour where the engineers had gone down, to find that they had managed to survive and stick together. They were actually doing quite well, and the quaggan Shashoo of all people had taken command. Caoilfhionn was proud of her, they had met years ago when he was still a sprout, still a junior Explorer with the Priory. He'd helped her then defend her village from Icebrood, and she had grown as much as he had in the intervening time.

Rhyoll was very happy to see them. "Annhilda! Damara! ...Everybody! What've you been up to?"

Annhilda sighed. "Don't ask."

Rhyoll laughed jovially. "That bad, huh? Well, don't worry about us. I still wish the jungle was suitable for tanks, but we've been holding our own."

"Looks like it," Damara said, looking in amazement at the plethora of turrets, small cannons, and traps that protected the camp beneath the hull of the airship. "I knew you'd be all right! I'm glad. What are the pyres for?" She pointed at the two large burnt patches filled with ashes, wood, and tiny bits of remains.

Rhyoll snuffled regretfully. "The Mordrem have been collecting bodies. We don't know why, but it can't be good, so we burn 'em. Like we did with the Risen."

"I see," Annhilda said. "We're reassembling, slowly but surely, and we're going to take it on foot after all – we don't have a choice. We've got a big defensible camp to the south-east, and as soon as we've got everyone from this area, we're going to push west and follow the path of the Fleet. Are you ready to pack up?"

"Not yet," Rhyoll said. "I'll let Chief Officer Shashoo explain."

"There is a Blighting Tree to the north," Shashoo said in her sing-song quaggan voice. "Many Mordrem come from there. We must destroy it before we leave Mellaggan's Valour."

"We've salvaged a fair number of explosives from the wreckage," Beigarth the Norn smith said. "We're going to pack as many as we can into the Blighting Tree's trunk, set the detonators, and then run." Occam, the Sylvari smith, shook his head and muttered something about madness.

"A sound strategy," Annhilda said, and Occam sighed. "When were you planning to launch?"

"When you came," Shashoo said. "We were going to go tomorrow if you did not. But you are here now, so we can move out immediately!"

"Excellent," Annhilda said. "Let's go blow up a tree!"

Caoilfhionn was not prepared for this tree. It was nothing like the Pale Tree; smaller, first off, with unnaturally dark bark, ghastly, jagged, twisted, like it had grown up sick, and it was festooned with sickly bright green pods full of green fluid that oozed down into the depths of the jungle. But it had the same purpose. Every one of those pods was filled with developing Mordrem Guard, and they emerged full-grown just like a Sylvari.

The raid was brutal and vicious, for the Mordrem Guard fought like demons to protect their base and the Pact had to fight just as fiercely to break through, giving cover to the engineers as they charged to the main pillars of the tree, armed with piles of explosives.

Caoilfhionn, of course, was in the forefront of the fighting, his task to seek out snipers and flank the heavy hitters. He was on the left side, weaving between tree stems, pursuing one Mordrem Guard who dodged before him with equal agility, when he froze, staring.

Malyck did not hesitate, his pistol aimed, firing, and Caoilfhionn reeled as he felt a blow in his right shoulder. "Malyck! Malyck, it's me, Caoilfhionn! Stay your-" But Malyck's eyes were a burning crimson, glaring with unchanging malevolence, and he spun, aiming to fire again. Caoilfhionn ducked, pressing his left dagger against his wound to channel his Glyph of Harmony, and felt power surge into him with the healing. "Rhyoll! Rhyoll, I need your help!" If anyone could help him now, it was Rhyoll.

"What'ya need?" Rhyoll said, bounding in his direction, rifle at the ready. "This guy giving you problems?"

"Help me capture him! Please!" Malyck spun again, shooting more aggressively now that Caoilfhionn had gone on the defensive. Rhyoll ducked with a grunt.

"What? Why?"

"He was my friend!" He conjured an Earth shield and held it before both of them.

Rhyoll grunted again, crouching to try to fit behind the shield. "He isn't anymore."

"Please, I have to try."

"Of course you do. All right. Give me a clear shot."

And the rest of the battle was still going on, all noise and confusion among the pillars of the tree, the shadows and the green ooze still falling around them... Caoilfhionn felt anxious that he was being so selfish, perhaps endangering his friends, but – but it was Malyck! Even if he had fallen to the Dragon, even if his eyes were red and he showed no sign of recognizing or caring about Caoilfhionn...

He threw fire at a Mordrem thrasher trying to get in his way, and charged towards Malyck recklessly; Malyck dodged away. He was no less nimble than Caoilfhionn was, threading his way between roots and branches, leading him on a chase through the corner of the tree that had become their personal battleground. Gunshots and Earth warred with each other, neither fast enough to seriously injure each other, although Caoilfhionn still could not use his right arm well for the pain in his shoulder.

"I can tell you do not wish to fight," Malyck said, pausing in his assault for the barest moment. "Why resist, then? Join the Dragon and your struggle will be over."

"I will not! Malyck, fight him! It is not futile!"

Malyck laughed with a flash of teeth. "You're as foolish as you were when we met! There is no resisting the Dragon."

So he did remember, but the Dragon made him not care. Caoiflhionn snarled and spun Earth energy about Malyck, twining vines about him that grabbed at his arms and legs. Malyck sheathed his pistols and drew his sword, slashing away the vines viciously and throwing himself at Caoilfhionn. Sword clashed on dagger, magical sparks flying. Now he could sense just how Malyck had changed physically; he could feel his weight and height had grown as Malyck leaned into him, pressing him back.

"This is the opposite of a clean shot, Caoilfhionn!" Rhyoll cried, trying to aim his netting grenade launcher.

"Sorry!"

But weight and height wouldn't help Malyck here, as Caoilfhionn abruptly gave before the attacks like water, sliding backwards on the rough ground. That sword, flickering scarlet like autumn maple leaves, had reach on him, but he turned aside each strike, or simply wasn't there. "Malyck... come back. Please. Please try."

Malyck shook his head and laughed.

"We've done it!" Shashoo's voice echoed through the inner tree in triumph. "Everyone, run! Run now!"

For an instant, he locked eyes with Malyck's crimson glare. Would he be all right? "Come with us!"

Malyck laughed, looked at the fleeing Pact soldiers, and ran to the edge of the tree, jumping into the abyss beyond. Caoilfhionn cried out, but Rhyoll stomped up to him and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. "Come on, twig! We've gotta get out of here before everything explodes! Your ex-friend is fine. You can fight him later or whatever."

* * *

He traveled with the others back to the Central Pact Encampment, with a high head and dry eyes, but he still could not smile; his cares yet lay too thickly upon him. But he was heartened by Rhyoll's return; they were looking to have a pretty decent chance at not dying just yet. Rhyoll was thrilled by the challenge of designing gliders for Norn and other Charr, and was knocking out prototypes already on the first evening back. "What do you think of these features?"

"It's great, but I don't need features," Annhilda said. "I need it to fly."

"Oh, it'll do that. But you need fine draft control, and brakes, and a bombing harness-"

"No bombing harness," Annhilda said. "Not yet. Just flight."

"Oh, fine. Then it's almost done."

And when he saw Annhilda first leap into an abyss with Rhyoll's first custom-designed glider, whooping and laughing, Caoilfhionn found his face lightening involuntarily. She could actually enjoy the sensation of flight, of the wind rushing past her, of the adrenaline of leaping across lethal heights effortlessly. Damara joined her, sharing in her delight with her own glider, her hawk soaring beside her, and he couldn't help but reflect some of it back, despite everything.

There was still hope, after all.

* * *

Damara stared blankly at the camp that she found before her. There, on a flat, sunny plateau under a tall rock spire, were gaudy, brightly coloured tents everywhere, interspersed with small café tables and polished chairs, grandfather clocks, chests of drawers, brass candelabras – candelabrae? She wasn't educated or fancy enough to know the right plural. What was all this? The gentle sound of pleasant music wafted through the air, filtering through cultured conversation and polite laughter. Human nobles, elegantly dressed in robes and gowns, sat about, eating tiny sandwiches and sipping wine and tea as servants waited on them and played for them. It had been nigh two weeks since the disaster, and the Pact had been moving further west, scouting out their next camp – but no one had expected this. Well... now that Damara saw it, she was hardly surprised, but really? _Really?_

She could feel Annhilda's blood pressure rising beside her. "What the hells are these idiots doing here!?" the Norn growled under her breath, and then stomped forward into the middle of camp. " _What the hells are you doing here!?_ " she repeated, her voice booming over everything else.

Everyone froze for a moment, some of the nobles glaring at the uncouth Norn who had the audacity to yell in the middle of their civilized party – or that was how Damara read it. The music trailed off stuttering into silence. A human with an eyepatch strode forward. "Good to see you, Commander," he said, with a long-suffering tone. "I will explain everything."

"Please do, Master Bongo," Annhilda said, with very clipped words.

"These... nobles, and sundry, decided to follow the Pact Fleet to... ahem, 'cheer us on'. They managed to seek us out at our crash site to the south, and I decided to relocate here since they at least have a more defensible position than we landed in. We've had the great fortune not to be attacked by anything worse than wyverns and treefrogs since we arrived."

"You're incredibly lucky," Annhilda said. "We've been facing Mordrem attacks daily. How are we going to get these idiots out of here?"

"We have a few Charr copters left, and the quicker they're out, the better," Damara said, soothing her hawk on her shoulder. "It would take them at least four days on foot, and they'd need an escort..."

"But we need the copters, too, and we're short enough on them as it is," Annhilda said, and sighed irritably, staring around at all the trying-to-look-innocent Human faces surrounding her. They swarmed about her, hopefully, but she towered head and shoulders over them; she would not be persuaded by anything they had to offer or say, and they knew it.

One noblewoman, whom Damara vaguely knew as Baroness Jasmina, stepped forward towards Annhilda. "I won't deny we acted foolishly, Commander, and we have no wish to inconvenience you more than necessary. But I'm afraid we must inconvenience you a little bit, as we cannot escape this jungle on our own – even with Faren's help."

"I knew he'd be here," Annhilda muttered.

"Oh, yes, he's been marvelous!" gushed another woman, Minister Merula. "He's slain many wyverns to protect us!"

"It was also his bloody brilliant idea to come here with this lot," growled Bongo.

"Did someone mention my name?" said a boisterous voice, and Faren strode into view. Unlike all the other nobles, he was _not_ wearing court finery – in fact, he was wearing nothing but a loincloth, made of leather that looked artificially distressed. His rapier was sheathed through it, clashing immensely in style.

"Oh by Lyssa's face, Faren," Damara sighed under her breath in exasperation, but she couldn't help staring. She had heard Annhilda complimenting his physique after seeing him at Southsun, but she hadn't seen him then herself so this was her first exposure to... those abs. He really did work out when he wasn't philandering, didn't he? And a little bit of chest hair, too, nice.

She shook her head violently, saw Caoilfhionn glance at her in confusion. She despised him! He was a dumbass! A sweet, goodnatured... handsome dumbass...

Annhilda glared at him, and he shrank slightly, like a bug on a plate. "I'm sorry?"

"Sorry's not good enough," Annhilda said shortly. "Fine, Damara. We'll bring up the copters. Get them all out of here and hope we don't lose any more soldiers and equipment to vines and snipers."

"Vines and snipers?" asked Merula anxiously.

"It's either risk that, and be out of here in an afternoon, or go on foot, tying up even more Pact personnel, and even more vines and snipers, for four days," Jasmina said to her. The minister blanched.

"I'm glad you have half a head on your shoulders," Annhilda said. "Damara?"

"We're under attack!" Canach cried from the bridge they had come from. "Mordrem Guard!"

"Mordrem Guard?" Annhilda snapped. "To arms! If you can't fight, stay the hell back and out of sight! Everybody else, to me! Let's put some of this trash to good use!"

"Wh-what do you mean?" wavered Merula, looking nervously at one of the piles of completely useless frippery, probably the one belonging to her. Jasmina grabbed her arm and dragged her back behind the cliff.

"I'll fight with you!" Faren cried, drawing his rapier and stepping up beside the Pact soldiers as they took defensive positions around the end of the bridge.

"Just keep him away from me," Bongo said, drawing his own sword.

"Put on some damn pants!" Damara took the opportunity to yell at him, while it could be excused as 'heat of the moment'. She was scanning the undergrowth for snipers behind the Mordrem emerging from the jungle. She didn't see any yet, and nocked an arrow, aiming at the lead Mordrem.

"Fear not, my lady! I learned the ways of the jungle in this attire! Conquered its dangers! And it's quite refreshing. I think it'll be the new thing in ol' DR once I get back."

"Shut your mouth and fight!" Annhilda cried, hurling a glass café table top like a discus into the oncoming Mordrem Guard. One of them caught it in the middle and fell back, not dead, but at least too injured to fight.

The nobles' voices rose in a twittering outcry like a flock of frightened birds. "What are you doing? That's valuable!"

Annhilda hucked the closest grandfather clock at a mounted Mordrem Guard, the clock shattering in a crash of thin wood and glass, a sproing of springs and the cry of a disgruntled artificial cuckoo. The Mordrem was buffeted to the edge of the bridge, where Caoilfhionn engulfed it in a blast of fire, knocking it into the abyss beneath. Damara was loosing arrow after arrow into the oncoming Mordrem, silently cursing their thick natural armour. It was like trying to shoot trees if you didn't hit them in the head. Her hawk Lina was doing her best, making them cover their eyes from her beak, but that was more interfering with her arrows than helping. Her spider Murlie was more helpful, climbing off her back to throw poison into their midst, and they were not immune to that. Annhilda was still picking up pieces of noble paraphernalia and using them as improvised missiles, now grabbing large sturdy suitcases and hurling them forwards. She was so strong, Damara marveled; she could throw all this heavy stuff so far. Canach was joining in, sticking to lighter things like candelabras and chairs.

"No, my shoes!" wailed Minister Merula as one suitcase tumbled off the edge of the cliff.

"Damn your shoes!" Annhilda yelled. "How many shoes does one person need?"

"That was twenty-seven pairs! All gone..."

"It's a good thing madam has another eighty-five pairs at home," said Merula's maid calmly.

"You're not taking any of this garbage back with you, so it may as well go to use right here!" Annhilda said. "No complaining! You were the ones who decided to bring... clocks to a warzone!"

Bongo was chuckling dryly. Caoilfhionn was silent, but that was the new, depressing normal. Canach snorted and kept helping.

Bongo had spoken truly about the defensibility of their position, and while the Pact held the high ground and the only two approaches, the Mordrem were unable to dislodge them and pulled back. "Huzzah!" cried Faren, who had somehow made it through everything unscathed – though not for lack of trying. "We are victorious once again!" He turned to the cowering nobles. "It is safe, my dears! Fear not, I shall never fail to defend you!"

"Oh, thank the Six," Merula fluttered. "You were truly heroic, Lord Faren!"

"Okay, Damara, you have a pigeon for me?" Annhilda said. "We need to call in those copters asap."

Damara rummaged in her Backpack of Holding for the emergency pigeon cage. "All set."

Annhilda took the cage, tucking it under one arm, and began scratching with some charcoal on a scrap of paper while the pigeon cooed anxiously. Faren, having received the accolades – or at least acknowledgements – of his female friends, came over to her. "Lady Damara! How nice to see you again. I should have expected to see you here. Did you like my fighting?"

"Lord Faren," Damara said, and sighed. "Yes, you were fine."

"I do wish you wouldn't sigh like that," Faren said. "It makes me feel awfully low when you look at me that way."

"Look, my lord," Damara said. "I know you want to help. You're a good man – flightiness aside. But you really have to stop getting so excited and jumping in feet-first."

"I'm sorry!" he said again. "I didn't think there would be any harm in it. We weren't in the front line. We just wanted to watch. I didn't think we'd get attacked, and not in the way we did." He brightened. "At least I've gotten a chance to complete my training as a swordmaster under dear Bongo!"

"Yes, you did seem quite confident," Damara said, and couldn't help a smile. "I bet I could beat you, though." She wasn't nearly as good with a sword as she was with her bow, but even though she didn't have Faren's grace, she could be effective with it when she needed to be. She was still alive, after all.

He beamed at her. "Is that a challenge, m'lady?"

"No, no. That's a distraction I don't need." Especially with him not wearing... _anything_. "You should grab some clothes before the copters come."

"I will not," Faren said. "I like it like this."

Damara resisted the urge to facepalm. "Well, it's a bit chilly in Divinity's Reach, this time of year..." Halloween had passed a couple weeks ago, and normally she'd be thinking about what to get her family for Wintersday already. This year her gift would have to be a dead dragon.

"Ah... Well... I suppose. Is there anything I can do for you when I get back?"

Kind of him to offer, even though it was a rather useless gesture... "Will you let Andrew and Petra at Salma's Mug tavern know that I'm all right?"

"Oh, yes, of course! It would be a pleasure to reassure them. Well... er... best of luck to you! Wish I could stay, but someone must protect Jasmina and Merula!"

"Mmhmm," Damara said. "Safe trip." She watched him scurry away to find his actual clothes, even though she really shouldn't have. But he did have a nice butt, too. She really wanted to slap it – but that wouldn't be allowed even if she wasn't a commoner.

Annhilda, having sent off the pigeon, whistled and gestured. "Everyone going back east, gather on the plateau! You may take one object that fits on your person and leaves both hands free! Master Bongo, the rest of the Pact forces will be arriving in two hours, strike these tents and dispose of the furniture!"

"Yes, ma'am! Over the edge it goes." A couple nobles wailed, but they didn't dare approach Annhilda with her face set and eyes flashing, and a splash of dark Mordrem blood drying on her face.

"Wait wait wait," Damara said. "Maybe some of the others would like to see it. It's funny, you know? Good for morale!" At last, Caoilfhionn reacted, some of the tension around his eyes easing. She wished she could do more for him.

"At least move it where it won't be in the way," Annhilda said. "We still have eight hundred soldiers coming in."

Master Bongo shook his head. "Eight hundred... when we began this advance with two-and-a-half thousand."

"I know. But we're not out of this fight yet, and by Raven, we're still going to win it!"


	36. Eir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another canon-divergent development: I did not kill off Eir, because she's too cool to kill off like that; she deserved better even in-game. Can't believe she couldn't fight back even a little. Once I got into LW3 I realized this is going to change Braham's storyline drastically, but I don't see a real problem with that yet. hashtag guild wars 2 nobody dies edition

36: Eir

Rytlock and Braham had finally been let loose to hunt for the prisoners going west, venturing together into the vastness of the jungle. They were both big, and loud, and Itzel scouts were able to easily direct Annhilda and the rest of Hope's Legacy – less Wegaff, who stayed with the army – to follow them. The rest of the army was making final preparations for their march south, for south was the only direction the Dragon could lie in now, and once they started marching, Annhilda had no intention of stopping until they were on the Dragon's doorstep.

But Rytlock and Braham had been absent long enough to either have run into trouble, or found something significant, and Caoilfhionn was relieved to see them unharmed when they caught up the next day.

"What have you found?" Annhilda asked. "I see Mordrem Guard ahead, yes?"

Rytlock nodded "This seems to be a large-scale prisoner containment camp. The Mordrem Guard goes out, collects living and dead bodies, and brings them here. We've been watching them since dawn."

Kasmeer shivered. "Then this is where they grow all the Mordrem we've been fighting? Part prison camp, part minion factory..."

"I think they grow them in those Blighting Trees, so this must be more for pre-processing," Rhyoll said.

"Right," Rytlock said. "There's no easy access, but at least one member of Destiny's Edge is here. I can... feel it."

"Feelings, Tribune?" Annhilda asked with a raised eyebrow. "From a soldier like you?"

Rytlock snarled. "Cut me some slack. I'm still getting used to this new magic, and... how to describe it. Come on. We think there's a back way in. Follow me."

They were both surprisingly quiet as they crept up the cliffside – well, Braham had been a hunter in the Shiverpeaks, at least. Caoilfhionn could hear the Mordrem Guard talking to each other, giving orders, it sounded like. It surprised him. With all the pressure in his head, the whispers and roars, he had thought Mordremoth would micromanage its minions, not delegate tasks... but perhaps it didn't actually care about strategy itself, only that its will be done, nevermind how.

They had to take a long, winding route through the jungle, up cliffs and through caverns, before they came across the outskirts of the camp on the opposite side, where they surprised a group of Mordrem Guard hauling corpses of Pact, Itzel, and Mordrem. Hope's Legacy fell upon them swiftly, trying to prevent them from sounding the alarm. Yet even as they slew the monsters, Caoilfhionn felt a subtle change in the pressure in the back of his head. As the others spread out to check that all the bodies were really dead, he gripped his ring tightly and listened a little more carefully to the call, trying to discern what had changed.

It wasn't actually that difficult, even picking through which parts were his Wyld Hunt twined in with it. Mordremoth was more subtle than Zhaitan, but it was still very loud, and though most of his will was still bent on keeping it _out_ of his head, enough came through to be intelligible.

He looked at Canach, who nodded. "Mordremoth knows we're here, but it doesn't seem concerned," Canach said. "It's interested, but not... urgent."

"Yes, I can feel it too," Caoilfhionn said. "It's hiding something... or it wants us to think that it is." But would it tell the other Mordrem Guard to be on the lookout?

"Stay alert," Annhilda said. "Keep your eyes open and move up to that clearing."

They crouched in the undergrowth, looking out across a camp that bore a resemblance to the one they'd raided on their first night in the jungle, but far bigger and heavily guarded. It was a very good thing they had not come in the 'front gate'.

"This is where they keep the live prisoners," said Rytlock. "Whoever we're looking for is somewhere nearby."

"We'll get you out of here, Mom," Braham said under his breath. "I swear it."

"You're hearing the Dragon?" Damara asked. "Are you going to be okay?"

He nodded. "I'm actually not hearing the Dragon's voice as strongly or as often as usual, but I know it's here... It's up to something."

Canach huffed. "Mordremoth loves surprises... especially when it's surprising Sylvari with the fact that its thoughts seem like our own."

That it sought to take the darkness present in all of us, push it to the surface, and use that to usurp control entirely... "That's what makes it so dangerous to us. And why we have to keep tabs on each other."

Canach looked at him sardonically. "And here I thought you didn't like me."

"I don't," Caoilfhionn said bluntly. "But I've... come to trust you as an ally. I don't want you to lose yourself, and I trust you feel the same about me."

"I suppose you're not wrong," Canach said, with a sigh.

"Everyone ready?" Annhilda said. "Melee in front, ranged behind. Forward!" At her shout, they surged into the open, Annhilda blinking forward in front of all of them, taking the Mordrem Guard entirely by surprise.

Perhaps too much by surprise. If Mordremoth knew they were there, why would it not warn its minions? Unless it wanted to make Hope's Legacy feel like they were doing well before springing a trap about them...

It was getting to him. His mind and will were still strong but it didn't have to control him directly to weaken him.

And yet... though the fighting was heated, they were winning, and there was no sign of any trap. He could not help but be distracted. Canach seemed to be fine. He would not be weaker than Canach...

When the Mordrem Guard in the area were slain, they could go about and open all the vine cages. They were more densely made than the ones he'd seen before, and he could not see within them before he cut them open. He found several Pact soldiers, weak and injured, but very happy to be freed.

"Commander, wait," Canach said, and Caoilfhionn looked up as Canach slashed open a vine cage, releasing a Sylvari inside, but Canach did not lower his whipsword. "This one is Nightmare Court. Shall I kill it?"

"Wait!" cried the Courtier, stumbling away from Canach, holding out her hands peaceably. "I don't want trouble, I just want to get out of here!"

"Prove it," said Annhilda harshly. "Start running and don't stop until you hit Dry Top. Move!" The Courtier fled.

"Weird," Phiadi said. "Wouldn't they want to join Mordremoth? They're both evil, aren't they?"

"Misguided, one could argue," Canach said. "The Nightmare Court, for all they are traitorous, cruel, backstabbing bastards, they are still Sylvari. Still our brethren. Mordremoth..."

"The Nightmare Court may be monstrous, but Mordremoth is a far greater monster, and even they know it," Caoilfhionn said.

"Mordremoth is an abusive dad," Damara said. "Thank goodness your mom got away from him."

"One way to put it," Canach said sardonically.

"Well, that was the last one, and still no sign of our people," Annhilda said. "Rytlock? Are you still feeling that feeling?"

Rytlock grunted. "Affirmative. And it's even stronger here. They're close... just beyond those vine walls." He pointed with his sword.

"What are we waiting for?" Braham cried, running over to the vines. "Tribune, put your new magic to work and clear us a path. Please!"

As Rytlock approached the vines, drawing on that strange pale magic within him, blasting them down with sheer strength, Canach paced slowly. "I can feel the Dragon's presence here. It's palpable, but diffuse. I find it... distracting. Disconcerting."

"I feel it too," Caoilfhionn said. "Mordremoth seems focused on this area... indirectly, like it's staring at us from the corner of its eye." Why were the whispers so quiet? He did not like hearing them, and yet he did not trust not hearing them.

Canach's voice got deeper and grimmer. "The deeper we go into this camp, the more it feels like a spider's web... and we're the flies."

"By Grenth, will the two of you stop being creepy?" Damara cried, followed by agreement from Kasmeer, Marjory, and Rox.

"Sorry," Caoilfhionn stammered. Canach shrugged.

There were a few more vine cages beyond the wall, and one of them shook on hearing their voices, and voices raised from within to catch their attention. "Hey! Over here!"

"Mom!" yelled Braham, running ahead again. "Mom, we're here. We'll bust you out of there in no time."

Eir sighed with relief from inside the cage. "A rescue party... Then Wolf did hear me, in here. They're starving us... no food or water for days."

A sharper voice interrupted her. "That's because Mordremoth doesn't care if we're alive or dead when it plugs us into a Blighting Tree. Release us. Now!"

Caoilfhionn's hand faltered even as he drew his dagger. "Faolain? Why are so many of the Nightmare Court here in the Heart of Maguuma?" Canach moved past him, cutting faster with his longer sword.

Faolain snorted contemptuously. "You know nothing of the Court. We seek freedom, and Mordremoth's yoke is even more onerous than the Pale Tree's."

"Forget her," Eir cried. "Just get me out! The Mordrem already took Logan and Zojja and Trahearne deeper into the jungle and I don't know why."

"But they were alive, right?" Caoilfhionn said, leaning over Canach's shoulder.

"Yes, though Zojja was in bad shape last I saw. Logan was trying to help her, but they weren't making it easy for him. Trahearne was... struggling, I could see."

"He'll fight," Caoilfhionn said fiercely. "He knows I'm coming for him."

"Yes, he said as much before we were separated."

They could catch a glimpse of those in the cage now, and Faolain's bright eyes peered out at them. "Oh, it's the second-class Secondborn. I thought you were in jail, little brother."

Canach grinned toothily at her. "I negotiated my way out. Unlike you, I realized how pointless and destructive my chosen course was, so I changed it."

Faolain smiled back, not at all bothered by the jab. "Ah, but you're still a prisoner. And you will be until you stop trying to prove you're nobler than you actually are."

"Shut up, he's fine," Damara said.

"Pending evaluation," Phiadi cautioned her.

There was a rending groan from the earth, but instead of falling away, the vines clenched tighter, swinging away and striking against another path across a ravine. It burst open along the cuts they'd made, and Eir and Faolain rolled out.

"Are you all right?" Braham called.

"I'm fine," Eir called back, sounding a little shaken regardless. They were both bruised and scraped, though it was more obvious on Eir with her red blood and pale skin.

"We can meet up over there," Rytlock called, pointing westward. Eir waved in acknowledgement and began to jog in that direction, then suddenly froze as a rattling growl rose from the undergrowth. Faolain did not waste time looking around, breaking into a full sprint instantly; Eir followed her. So did Hope's Legacy.

The jungle was alive and hostile around them, leaves rustling and hissing. New thorny vines were bursting out of the ground, flailing at them, and the two ex-prisoners were defenseless! Damara drew her bow, but the range was too far, even for her, and she lowered it to follow the others. Whatever was growling out in the jungle was getting closer...

Faolain tripped and was brought down with a frightened shriek as vines closed about her. Eir seized the vines that bound her and tore them away. "Come on!"

But Faolain laughed, snapping off one of the thorns and stabbing it up into Eir's side, scrambling to her feet and running as Eir reeled in pain. Not for long, for Eir wrenched the thorn free and flung it with a howl, and Faolain fell forward with a hideous gasp. She looked up as something burst from the undergrowth, impaling her and dragging her screaming into the bushes. A few moments later, her screams fell silent.

"Mom!" Braham yelled. "We're almost there! Just hold on!"

Eir stood in the middle of the clearing, panting, holding her side, looking all about her. A huge quadrupedal form, like a dragon-sized hound, crept from the jungle behind her, growling; she turned to face it, her eyes weary but determined. Damara loosed an arrow, but it went wide.

"Get it!" Annhilda yelled. "Kick its ass!"

"She's injured, she's not kicking anything," Rytlock said. "Move it!"

Eir had managed to grab a big stick, and ducked as the huge thing lunged at her; it was blindingly fast, and as Rytlock said, she was slowed by her wound, and weak from her imprisonment. She managed to beat away a snap of its jaws, and then – its tail stabbed forwards, impaling her against a tree with a sickening crunch. Eir made an agonized gasp and fell to the ground as it withdrew its tail.

"No!" Braham screamed, and charged up, just moments too late. "Mom!"

"Kill that thing!" Annhilda ordered. "Caoilfhionn, Rox, see to Eir!"

Caoilfhionn flung himself down by Eir's facedown body, pouring healing power into her with all his strength. Rox was across from him, grabbing bandages, poultices, anything she had in her pack. Caoilfhionn flinched instinctively as the creature stomped about, making the ground shake, but the others had its attention fully now. He prayed that they'd be able to slay it without further injury – or death – and then focused everything on Eir's horrible wound.

The sound of the battle was dreadful. The creature made strange, guttural screams, and it was fast, he could feel from the trembling of the ground. His shoulders were tense, expecting every moment to be stepped on or bitten or impaled, but if he moved, Eir would die. The others were shouting, Marjory, Annhilda, even Taimi, explosions and bowstrings and magic forming a chaotic backdrop to the mounting noise in his own head.

Water took that noise and made it calm, with the paradox of a waterfall, never still yet never moving. Behind the chaos was peace, and he bent to let out that peace into Eir, to draw together torn flesh, to slow draining lifeblood, to hold her soul from slipping away. She was so fragile under his touch, and he sank deeper into his trance, pouring his energy into her.

Behind him, the monster let out another warbling screech and crashed heavily; a few moments more of frantic action, and then all he could hear was hard breathing – and some groaning of pain. But he did not sense death, and he was glad of it.

"Mom! Mom!" Braham rushed over, abandoning his mace and shield to kneel beside her. "Is she alive? Is she okay?"

"She's still breathing," Rox said. "She's hardy, you know. You can help me bind up these wounds, though Caoilfhionn's been doing his level best to stem the bleeding."

At that moment, Caoilfhionn fell back, breathing hard himself. "I can do no more for now. I have spent my strength."

"I'll help," Marjory said, leaning down beside him.

"Mom!" Braham called again, and Eir grunted softly – so softly they almost missed it. "It's me, Braham! You're safe now, so just hold on."

"B-Braham," Eir mumbled, opening her eyes and trying to lift her head. Rox had turned her head enough to breathe, but she still lay on her front. She gathered her strength and began to push herself up – and they all saw her face change. "Braham."

"I'm here, Mom. What is it?"

"I... I can't." Eir swallowed hard, her eyes wide. "I can't feel my legs."

An icy chill ran through Caoilfhionn. No magic could help with an injury that dire. At least, that was what his studies on healing at the Priory had told him.

"Are you sure?" Rytlock said, leaning down and poking her tattooed thigh. "Nothing?"

If Eir hadn't been panicking, Caoilfhionn thought she might have swatted her guildmate. "Help... I... I don't..."

"It's okay, Mom," Braham said. "I'll help you. I'm right here."

"Help me lift her so we can start bandaging," Rox said. "Spinal injury or no, we have to get pressure on these wounds right away."

"Yes... you're right," Eir said, and exerted herself with Braham's aid to make it to a sitting position, with grunts and gasps of pain.

"You took out Faolain," Rytlock said. "Good job. She died screaming like the coward she was."

Rox swooped in with her poultices and bandages. "You don't have to stand and stare," she said to the others. "I'm not sure how we're getting back to camp yet, but I'll let you figure that out."

"Rhyoll, ideas?" Annhilda said, and they turned away to let Rox work in peace. "Whether or not she recovers use of her legs, she's absolutely not walking back today."

"I can rig a harness stretcher, no problem," Rhyoll said. "You and Braham would probably be best to carry her, so I'll need to make it yea wide..." He started rummaging around for fallen wood, muttering calculations under his breath.

"What about Garm?" Kasmeer asked. "Is he around somewhere?"

"We'll keep an eye out for him," Rytlock said. "He'll come back when he's ready."

Annhilda let out a long breath and smiled at them. "Well done, everyone. We did good today."

"Just today?" Phiadi asked coyly.

"We've got a long way to go," Marjory said. "But yes, we did good today."

Damara patted Caoilfhionn's shoulder. "We'll save the others too. Be sure of it."

He managed, for the first time in weeks, a little smile. "I am sure of it. Thank you."


	37. The Golden City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a complaint to make about the sound direction around all the Exalted stuff: the shimmery noise they put in the background of the soundtrack makes me think that a fire alarm is going off somewhere in the distance, it's very disturbing to me.

37: The Golden City

They made it back to the main Pact camp without being attacked, and within hours Braham, Eir, and Rox were getting airlifted by copter back to the Silverwastes. Eir was both very relieved to be alive, and terrified that she'd never walk again. Caoilfhionn feared it would be so, but he had to turn his attention forward again, where his Wyld Hunt and Mordremoth's call and his own personal desires drew him.

Southwards, the jungle was growing lighter, less dense, with fewer yawning chasms and towering cliffs, and better weather. In fact, compared to the northern jungle, it was almost... gentle. Though certainly not for the dangers of flora and fauna, Mordrem or otherwise. They found more scattered Pact soldiers, and Caoilfhionn caught sight of Ceera of all people, but she hissed and glared when she saw him, so he turned abruptly and left her alone. He was almost surprised to see her still with the Pact after all this time.

But one of them, a Seraph soldier, had caught sight of Caithe heading east only a few hours before, so Annhilda rallied the guild, left the Pact to hold position, and set out in search of her. "You said there were some Priory in that area as well?"

"That's right. Spotted some ancient-looking golden structures, and... well, you know us Priory folks and old shiny things. They started lighting up just now, right after she ran through."

"Good to know," Annhilda said. "We'll keep an eye out."

The sun warmed the humid air as they descended the incline to the east, glittering off broadleaved plants as it filtered through the canopy. They'd been walking some time when Damara caught sight of something shining that was not just a reflection, and pointed.

"Hello! Glowy person!" Taimi cried, and Scruffy waved. "Huh. It disappeared."

"Teleported," Rytlock grunted.

"Well, obviously," Taimi said, like the snarky teen she was.

They pursued the figure through the forest; it never appeared for long before teleporting again. They passed the ruins the Priory had been talking about, tall angular golden arches surrounded by strange mirrors all with a magical glow about them. And there they saw the figure again, gliding through the forest, from the waist up like a Norn clad in strange golden armour, even to a strange, angular golden mask, and from the waist down simply a trail of white-gold energy.

"You there!" Annhilda cried. "Stop!" But the figure did not stop, though it also did not teleport this time.

Rytlock snarled and blinked forward, directly in front of the figure with his sword drawn. "End of the line, pal. Identify yourself."

"I'm in the midst of an important mission," said the glowing golden figure calmly. "I must follow the trail before it goes cold."

"What is your mission?" Annhilda asked. "Who do you serve?"

"I am Ruka the Wanderer, of the Exalted," said the figure. "We are charged with preserving life from the predations of Elder Dragons. Whom do you serve, Mordrem?" he asked, turning to Caoilfhionn and Canach.

Canach huffed, but Caoilfhionn stepped forward, a little defiantly. "We are Sylvari, not Mordrem. Our people have connections to the Dragon, but we are not its slaves. We are here to kill it."

"I'll vouch for Caoilfhionn and Canach," Annhilda said. "I'm the Commander of the Pact, and I'm bringing an army through to wage war against Mordremoth. Any crashed airships you've seen belong to the Pact... hopefully... and we're hoping to link up with them before making an assault on the Dragon itself."

"I see," Ruka said. "Good. As for my mission, I'm tracking an... object. These devices respond to Glint's legacy, which means-"

"Caithe and the egg, it must be!" Caoilfhionn cried.

"Did you say egg?" Ruka exclaimed – or as much an exclamation as his calm, even, sonorous voice would allow. "After all these years... I must go, quickly. I might need help. You may accompany me, if you wish."

"We sure do," said Phiadi. "Can you track it?"

For answer, Ruka set off rapidly into the jungle, forcing the remainder of the party – Annhilda, Caoilfhionn, Damara, Rytlock, Phiadi, and Canach – to jog to keep up. The Exalted was silent as he traveled, and seemed to be concentrating, or so Caoilfhionn guessed from the feelings he felt from him. The mask revealed nothing to him.

Annhilda stiffened, catching movement in the jungle ahead, and pointed. Rytlock craned his neck. "It's Caithe... and is that your egg she's carrying?"

"Quick," Ruka said, speeding up even more. "There is a darkness..."

Caithe was crossing a clearing, glancing around at the trees warily, heading for a cave on the other side. A voice echoed out of it. "You've done well, Caithe."

Caithe gasped and stopped short, peering into the cave with shock and fear. "Faolain?"

"Bring the egg to me." The voice was... not entirely like to Faolain's voice, but... they had not actually _seen_ her die. On the other hand, how did she know about the egg? Eir would not have told her...

Caithe turned half-away defensively. "What? The egg? The egg is my Wyld Hunt, and I can only trust myself with it."

Something moved within the cave, something gigantic and angular – and a horrible massive creature like to a vinetooth crawled out, menace in its movements, and Faolain's face terrifyingly oversized upon its head. "We can all trust Mordremoth."

"Faolain? No!" Caithe screamed and turned to run, tripped, and the egg rolled from her backpack.

"Get in there!" Annhilda cried, jumping from cover, and the rest rushed after her.

"I need the egg," the Faolain-monster hissed, and sprang.

"Get the egg and run!" Rytlock yelled, casting a great spell at the Faolain-monster, making it draw back momentarily.

Caoilfhionn was the fastest, with his Air dash; he skidded between the legs of the monster, scooping up the egg before it could reach for it. An incredible power surged through him and he nearly stumbled again with the warm, crystaline presence in his arms. "W-what's-" But there was no time to exclaim about it, the creature was bearing down upon him, and he took to his heels.

"Follow me," called Ruka. "I can lead you to safety."

"I'm going with you!" Damara cried, tearing after him.

"Foolish creatures!" the Faolain-monster said, ignoring Caithe, who was still down, and Rytlock, who was belligerent, and it darted at Damara. Damara screamed and sprinted around a tree; the monster thundered on after Caoilfhionn. He'd lost track of Ruka, but all that mattered was getting away.

It gained on him with every step, and he was distracted by the feeling of bonding – but as if the egg could feel his rising desperation, he felt a sensation as if magical wings had sprouted from his back, and suddenly he launched forward as if he were Air dashing again, but for much longer. He was zooming along the top of a cliff, past little tumbling streams and startling flocks of brightly coloured birds, but the monster was still right behind him. And the cliff was ending-!

"Caoilfhionn!" Damara was at the foot of the cliff. "Jump!"

He had no time to pull his glider as he sprang from the edge; Faolain's claws lashed at his back and he felt them whoosh through the air just as those crystaline wings caught the wind, delivering him to the ground heavily but without injury, when he'd been expecting to at least break a leg on impact. He handed the egg to Damara. "Go!" She fled after Ruka, her pets at her side, and he ran in another direction. Perhaps he could be a decoy – but no, the monster was scuttling down the cliffside in a horrible uncanny way, eyes fixed on Damara.

Annhilda's glider whizzed overhead, and she kicked the monster in the face, giving Damara a few more seconds to scramble away; she, too, gained wings, springing high in the air, higher than any of them had ever jumped with a Zephyrite crystal. She landed safely and ran into a tunnel. Annhilda landed on a ledge nearby and ran in the same direction, and Caoilfhionn dashed after as the monster began to climb.

He caught up on the other side of the tunnel, as the monster skittered towards Damara; at the last moment Damara made a final burst of effort, throwing the egg to Annhilda. Ruka had reappeared, waving to them, and Annhilda dashed towards the Exalted, her long legs eating up the ground towards a tunnel too small for the monster to fit into easily. Faolain completely ignored Damara, bowling her over in her charge after Annhilda, pausing as she came to the tunnel and looking around for some other route through. Caoilfhionn ran after as swiftly as he could, gliding quickly over a pit in the ground, trying desperately to catch up even though surely his short legs were only falling behind.

But ahead, he could still see Annhilda running behind Ruka, heading for a cliff jutting out over a wide valley. She was preparing her glider as well as she could with one arm holding the egg-

The monster sprang upon her from the side, sending her rolling; she gave a cry of startled anger and grabbed at her sword. "No, you don't!" But the monster paid her no heed, eyes fixed upon the egg.

Caoilfhionn Air-dashed once more, right in front of that dreadful, huge face, seizing the egg and launching himself from the cliff behind Ruka, this time with his glider ready. Faolain screeched in rage behind him, but he was safe while he was in the air. Unless vines came to attack him...

No vines came to attack him, and he landed safely in the boughs of a large tree. He looked back, but he could not see Faolain. "Where is she?" He gasped for air, tried to control his breathing. She would be hunting him, and he couldn't give her any clues.

"She has retreated for now," said Ruka next to him. "We are close to a pylon, a protected space. We are safe for now."

He let himself relax a little, and felt the energy within the egg relax as well. He reached out to the leaves of the tree, calling his meagre Shaping skills to hand, and formed a new satchel to carry the egg in so he could have his hands free. He slung it on his back and hopped down from the tree, where Ruka waited for him. The Exalted turned and set off into the forest, and Caoilfhionn jogged to catch up.

"You could have tried to take the egg," he said to Ruka. "Why didn't you?"

Ruka turned to look down on him, gliding along easily as could be. "I don't want to possess the egg. I want to protect it. It chose you as its bearer."

"It chose me? How could it choose me?" Caoilfhionn stared incredulously, but the energy on his back gave a happy little lift.

"I can't answer that question," Ruka said. "It chose you – and your two friends who also bore it. I will support all of you."

"I don't understand," Caoilfhionn said. "At least I can now fulfill my quest. ...What happens now?"

"You must go south to Tarir, the city of the Forgotten. It's a safe place, built to shield the egg as it hatches."

Caoilfhionn gave him a skeptical look. "Why here?"

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, but the egg was stolen from me, and I just got it back. I'm not taking any chances with it."

"Do you still not trust me?"

"The egg is so important. I'm not sure I trust anyone anymore – besides my closest friends."

"Trust yourself, then. Your instincts brought you here for a reason. But while you have the egg, every Mordrem alive will be after you. Get it to Tarir. And hurry."

Caoilfhionn looked at him a brief moment more. This strange, otherworldly being... conveniently offering an entire city built to shield this specific egg? On the other branch... Mordremoth definitely knew of the egg's location now, thanks to that Faolain-monster. And if anything, the Exalted did seem to oppose Mordremoth. And what he could sense from Ruka... it was strange, as if Ruka were not... truly... alive, and not... truly... artificially created. And yet, whatever passed for the being's heart was true and earnest. "Very well. Show me the way."

"Follow me," Ruka said, but then there was a shout from behind, and Annhilda and Damara came running. "Good, they were also chosen."

"Chosen?" Damara asked, panting, her spider clinging to her head like a very strange hat. "What's going on, Caoilfhionn?"

"I am going with Ruka to take the egg to his city, Tarir. I believe the Exalted will protect it as they say. It seems the egg has bonded with us as we protected it... I think."

"Aww, how sweet!" Damara said, patting the backpack on his back. "What a sweet little dragon baby."

"If the egg will be safe, that's one less thing to worry about," Annhilda said. "But I'll go with you just in case. I've lost track of the others, but they'll be fine, the monster wasn't after them."

"You are most welcome to come," Ruka said, and led them by gently sloping paths downwards, to a large double door in a low cliff. "Welcome... to Tarir."

The door opened at Ruka's touch, and all three of them gasped as they stepped forward. Everywhere they looked was gold, towers and tall buildings of gold, adorned with jade green plants. Before them in lines stood many more Exalted, and one at the back with a particularly fantastic helm. That one stepped forward and spoke with many voices, but primarily a woman's voice. "Welcome, egg bearer...s. I am the Luminate. You are most honoured guests. We have waited so long for your arrival. Welcome to Tarir."

"It's an honour to be here," Caoilfhionn said politely, feeling quite short among all these glowing giants.

"This city and we Exalted were created to protect the whole of Glint's legacy, including the egg."

"That is exactly what I have searched for," Caoilfhionn said. "I must know the egg is completely secure before we fight Mordremoth. What is this place?"

"Come and see," said the Luminate, gliding aside and holding out her hand to show the view. The three adventurers stepped forward and Caoilfhionn caught his breath.

The city was not tall above the trees; it sank deep into the ground, yet the gold that gleamed from every surface shown reflected light so that even the lowest part, as far below as the lowest levels of the Grove were from the highest, was bathed in golden beams. Large trees grew up through it, birds flew across it calling to each other, and everything seemed enveloped in peace and strength. "It's so beautiful." He couldn't help a smile, even a little laugh, and when he could tear his eyes away and look to the others, they were also smiling, their eyes shining with wonder as he knew his own must be.

"It is beautiful," Annhilda said, who rarely commented on such things. " _This_ is the place from your vision, isn't it?"

"Yes," Caoilfhionn said firmly. "This is where I was destined to go."

"I love it," Damara said. "I can't wait for the others to see this."

"I can't wait to show Trahearne," Caoilfhionn said, and for the first time since the disaster, his worry did not drown out his awe. His hope was high, with this glorious place of safety before him and the egg on his back. One of his worries was gone altogether, and that made the other two seem all the easier. Even Mordremoth's whispers seemed dulled here, inaudible, insignificant.

"Centuries ago," said Ruka behind them, "the Forgotten magically erected Tarir to hold and nurture the artifacts Glint would leave behind. They also sought out mortals to become Exalted – ageless, enhanced guardians of the city and its contents. We who volunteered and passed the necessary tests were converted into pure energy and encased in golden armour."

"So you were mortals once," Caoilfhionn said, looking up at him. "So that's why you feel... the way you do."

Ruka made a slight bow. "We were once related to those you call the Zephyrites. But when all the preparations were complete, we began to go dormant, waiting for our noble duty to begin. Glint... died. Soon after, Tarir began to sir... and we Exalted awoke, mourned, and took up our duty once more."

"So this is all recent, sort of," Damara said, waving cheerfully at the ranks of Exalted still watching them.

"We have not been long awake, no," the Luminate said. "But come. Now you're here, and so is the egg. Glint's grand design can finally begin to unfold. A new portal appeared when the city became aware of the egg. Ruka will lead you to it."

"A portal?" Caoilfhionn asked Ruka. "To where?"

"Even we do not know," Ruka said. "But we believe to the safest place in the whole city. Please, follow me."

They followed the Exalted, down stairs, through vaulted halls, through little green courtyards full of flowers, down more stairs, and more stairs. "They seem really focused on Glint," Damara said in a low voice. "Glint, Glint, Glint. Do they never think about anything else?"

"I'm not sure they can," Caoilfhionn whispered back. "I don't quite understand them yet, but I think they're incapable of deception."

Annhilda shushed them. The 'city' seemed strangely small, and strangely empty. Perhaps at one time, large numbers of people had lived here, maybe the Forgotten, but all that lived here now were the Exalted, and they were not numerous, from what he could see.

They were still descending, stairs after stairs after stairs, until they had descended to the very bottom of the city, below the ground. "Here we are," Ruka said, as they arrived in a small, rather rough-hewn cave, with golden pillars and pedestals nonetheless. "I don't know what you'll find, but if I know the Forgotten, you'll be tested before you're allowed to proceed. Don't be offended, it's nothing personal. They never give anyone what they want without making them earn it."

"I'm offended," Annhilda said, not entirely seriously. "We're trying to give them what _they_ want."

"The egg _has_ chosen you," Ruka acknowledged. "But the Forgotten have their ways. According to the runes, this is as far as I go. Good fortune."

He gestured to the small platform at the back of the cave. Caoilfhionn took a deep breath and stepped on it – and found himself teleported.

* * *

They passed through three trials, each more tedious than the last, though Annhilda boasted that she could do it with her eyes closed. "Would they really be trials if they weren't annoying, though?" Damara said. He couldn't say he could see her logic.

At the last of it, they were teleported to one more chamber, this one so tall that to look up he saw faint clouds beneath its roof, where in the centre of a raised golden island was a golden pedestal encircled with stained glass wings. It was utterly beautiful, as they climbed up to it, staring about them, and Caoilfhionn took the backpack from his shoulders, discarding the woven leaves and carrying the egg gently in his arms to place it upon the pedestal. There it sat in majesty, the pinnacle of the chamber's beauty with its glittering, half-ethereal crystaline shape; a white-gold light pulsed out of it and towards the top of the chamber. He felt magic rise about them, wards settling into place, powered partly by the egg itself, and partly the ancient magic of the city surrounding the egg like a symbiotic cocoon. He breathed deeply, relieved at last of his burden.

Damara cooed. "Look at you, you're all safe now! Yes, you are! In such a pretty place, too!" She talked that way to her pets sometimes, so he was not surprised she spoke that way to this unhatched dragonlet.

"Looks good to me," Annhilda said, looking around at the chamber. "Decently defensible, with this cover and high platform, though if enemies can even get in through the magical wards about this place I'll be very surprised."

"I'm glad," Caoilfhionn said. That was one weight taken from his shoulders. He reached out to touch the egg, one more time. "Be well."

In an instant, he was plunged into a vision. A tiny seed pulsed with a heartbeat, like the still-beating heart of a stag. Branches and vines spread from it like poison through veins – was it the dragon's heart? With a shimmer of crystalline prisms the vision changed, showing Zojja's terrified face as she was swallowed by a giant plant, fading into darkness, surrounded by other, small, plant-made asuroid shapes – and then Logan came into view as if sleeping, bark creeping across his face and armour, spinning through space, separating and multiplying like oozes – his vision spun, faster and faster, disorienting him, and he was falling, falling, falling into the jungle-

Eyes. Screaming. Yellow eyes, hardly recognizable, wracked with agony as their bearer was torn in two – and in two – and in two – and Trahearne split and shattered, leaving only a stern-faced army of Mordrem Guard clones. Caoilfhionn fell past them all, towards the golden city, and Mordremoth's jaws closed about it-

He was back in the egg chamber, but he was still and cold as ice. Tears started into his eyes, and he swallowed and began to tremble violently. "No-! _Trahearne!_ "

"Oh no," Damara said, and he felt her arms about him. "That was horrible! Breathe, Caoilfhionn, breathe. We'll rescue them. We will."

"You... saw it too?" he forced through a leaden mouth.

"I think that vision came from the egg," Annhilda said grimly. "How it knows, I don't know. But I think we'd better get back on track. I'll head back and gather the Pact forces. And I'd like to know that the rest of Hope's Legacy is all right."

"By Dwayna, yes," Damara said. "I hope that creature didn't double back on them when it lost us."

"You two stay here," Annhilda said. "In the city, I mean. If the Exalted are willing, this would be a good place for the Pact to regroup. And then I'll send out scouts to pick up the trail we were following earlier..." She dashed away, still talking through her to-do list to herself.

Caoilfhionn gave a sob and wrapped his arms around himself. What was he doing, enjoying himself while his beloved suffered so? "Trahearne..."

"Oh no you don't," Damara said. "I know that look. You can't run off by yourself to rescue everyone. Wait for the army. Come on. Let's get something to eat. You won't be any good to Trahearne as a horror-stricken shell."

He straightened. "No. I will not be a horror-stricken shell. Mordremoth will suffer before it dies. Everything it has inflicted upon Trahearne it will feel ten-fold."

"Oh boy," Damara whispered, and followed him from the chamber.


	38. Farewell to Ruadhan

38: Farewell to Ruadhan

The Exalted allowed the Pact to rest at their city, and the army came in gratefully, eager to catch a bit of rest and a couple good nights of unstressed sleep after more than three weeks of constant fighting. The quartermasters and cooks got together to prepare a veritable feast, and morale was as high as it had been since they left Camp Resolve. The Priory members, naturally, rambled the city, asking questions of every Exalted they came across, and Annhilda had to caution them not to be annoying.

Hope's Legacy was not there. Taimi had passed on a message through a Whispers scout, saying they were heading south to keep on the trail of the prisoner caravan, and that they had not had any injuries. Caoilfhionn had reflected, and the terrible vision he had seen – that must be a premonition of the future, of course, because Logan, Zojja, and Trahearne were still being taken to the Dragon. The Mordrem had not stopped to put them in a Blighting Tree, not yet. So if they were fast, he could still save them from such anguish. Still, the horror of the vision stayed with him, and once more he found himself numb to the glories of the city and the surrounding jungle. His leaves were getting dryer by the day, and more and more of them were fading to yellow and brown.

Braham, and Rox, however, returned, in the Charr copter that had taken Eir to safety. "They're taking Mom straight home. I'm still worried for her, but I have a job to finish here. And if Faolain is truly still alive... after a fashion... then I've got two jobs to do."

It was the second day the Pact rested there, and they were beginning to repack everything in preparation for leaving at the next sunrise, when the ground shook. Caoilfhionn looked around in alarm. The wards about the city were faltering, fading, and the sky seemed to be darkening with unnatural swiftness. Mordremoth's voice grumbled in the back of his head.

"That can't be good," Laranthir said, kneeling to feel the ground. "I wonder..."

Huge vines burst from the ground, belching poison as they came, enveloping the central square of the city and blocking it off from the outside. More vines sprang up through the north courtyard where Caoilfhionn and Annhilda stood with Laranthir.

"Dammit," Annhilda grumbled. "Mordremoth really doesn't want us to have a moment's rest." She raised her voice. "Pact, to arms! Defend the city! Laranthir, go east, I need a commander in each quadrant! Damara, get south as quick as you can! Master Bongo, you're west!"

"T'would be nice if the Mordrem were not already _in_ the city," Laranthir said, waving at the Pale Reavers and running to the eastern courtyard.

The Luminate appeared beside Annhilda with a number of Exalted, larger in stature than Caoilfhionn had seen before. "We have protected Tarir since its beginning," cried the Luminate, and her voice echoed from every surface until it could be heard throughout the entire city. "It will not fall this day. We have the power to repel Mordremoth, and we will reject its Mordrem from Tarir. We would rather die than surrender Tarir to Mordremoth. This is the sacrifice we are all willing to make."

"Hope it doesn't come to that," Annhilda said. "Look out! Mordrem hylek!"

With the Vigil's courage, the Priory's cleverness, and Whispers' cunning, they felled the Mordrem blocking their path – Mordrem Guard, Mordrem hylek, Mordrem arrowheads, hardy and deadly opponents all. Still their enemies came, but once they had a clear path to the vines seething about the courtyard... they discovered they were too tough for normal weapons. Each of the commanders hastily improvised, each seeking their own way to weaken the vines, rushing to destroy them before they could demolish and corrupt the centre of Tarir – or force the Exalted to some unnecessary sacrifice. As the Pact regained control of the outer courtyards, runners were sent between all the commanders, trying to coordinate to defeat the plant from all sides simultaneously. As each quadrant was retaken, the Pact cheered with greater determination than they'd had since the launch of the fleet.

As the last vine shredded under heavy Vigil axes, a light pulsed from the ground, washing over the city. The sky grew lighter, the menace retreated from his mind, and Tarir sighed peacefully.

Annhilda met with each of her commanders in the central courtyard. "Well done, everyone! Mordremoth will think twice about attacking this place again!"

"That's probably more from the magic I just saw go up, though, isn't it," Master Bongo said.

The Luminate appeared before them. "Yes. The wards that defend this place were not properly set against Mordremoth's strength. It will not happen again."

"It better not," Annhilda said. "We need this place." She traded a look with Damara and Caoilfhionn.

"It will not," the Luminate said firmly. "You may rest easy for Tarir when you leave."

"All right," Damara said. "Then let's sleep early tonight and get all the rest we can. We've got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow!"

"We don't know that," Caoilfhionn said. "We don't know what Hope's Legacy has discovered yet, chasing the prisoners."

"We'd have gotten a pigeon if they had caught up, or were in trouble, or found the Dragon," Damara said. "So I don't think we've missed anything yet. But I want to hurry anyway."

"Me too," Annhilda said. "Extra rations tonight, too; once we set out again we won't have that luxury anymore."

"Very good, ma'am," Master Bongo said.

* * *

The Pact was in good spirits when it set out again on the next morning, taking the fight to Mordremoth, carrying replenished hope of victory. Southwards – for so Hope's Legacy's trail led them – the jungle began to be more treacherous again, narrower ravines between low cliffs among which lurked hostile Itzel, and Mordrem Guard, pocket raptors, and rolling devils.

Caoilfhionn was in the forefront of the prisoner caravan pursuit, of course, which meant he was the first to hear sounds of combat from the south a few days later. Damara took a squad of Pact soldiers and followed him down a winding side trail until they came across yet another airship wreck, a small one, with some very raggedy-looking Pact soldiers defending behind improvised barricades against a large Mordrem force of cavaliers, punishers, and the hated snipers. Caoilfhionn charged forward with flame into the fray. "Take heart! The Pact has come to your aid!"

A yellow face crowned with green leaves popped out from behind cover. "Caoilfhionn!"

"Eithne!" His siblings were all right! "Watch for snipers!" He writhed in the centre of his own ring of fire, slashing at anything that dared approach the barricades, and the Pact's flanking assault surged around him, taking the enemy off guard. Within minutes, they had slain one of the saurian riders and half the foot troops, and the rest broke off and retreated into the jungle.

Caoilfhionn vaulted the barricade and hugged Eithne tightly, and she hugged him back – too tightly. There was pain and grief in her soul, and he pulled back to look up at her with the beginnings of heartbreak in his own soul. "Did Ruadhan..."

"He's dead," she said, and her voice broke. She leaned forward onto him and began to weep. "He died when we crashed nearly a month ago. I couldn't hold on to him... he fell."

Grief tore into him like a blade, and he held her close. "I... I was so afraid for you both. I..." What could he say? His brother had been gone, gone nearly a month, and he hadn't known. Cathaoir and Blathnat still did not know. There wasn't anything he could have done about it.

And Eithne was leaning on him, her own emotional wounds torn open again from having to tell him. She had seen far less death in her life than he had, and he _was_ the elder by several hours... "And I've been hearing voices, and someone else on the ship, Camdin, went mad and tried to kill us."

"It's the voice of Mordremoth. I'll explain everything later. You must resist the voice as much as you can." As if in answer, Mordremoth pulled, and he sucked in a breath – and so did Eithne.

"I will," she said, though not with as much conviction as he would have liked. But she was no soldier – no knight. This was not her life. "It is so difficult... but I do not like what it says."

"Stay with me, or the other Sylvari," he said. "They'll remind you who you are. Stay strong, Eithne. Mother loves you, and I love you, and Ruadhan who lives on in the Dream loves you."

She sniffled and squeezed him, her cheek against his yellowing leaves. "You're withering. You must be under so much weight, and yet I cannot..."

"It's all right. I'm here to support you until you can." He looked up again. "Did you burn Ruadhan's body?"

"No... he is buried beneath the ship with the other dead. Why?"

"We must burn the bodies before we leave. The Mordrem will take them, even though they're buried, and use them to replenish their ranks else."

She recoiled. "That's horrible! Mordremoth would not only take our minds, but our bodies as well?"

"This is why we must slay him as swiftly as possible. Will you keep fighting with us?" If she wanted to leave, he could send her to Tarir to await the end, for good or ill – though she probably would not make it farther back to civilization on her own. She was not strong enough to use the waypoints. And she had no Wyld Hunt as he did to push him onwards, as if he even needed his.

Her eyes, normally so large and green and curious, had a new look in them he'd never seen before. "I will fight. I have lost my brother once, to death. I will not lose him again to be Mordremoth's puppet. I will not lose any more of our brothers and sisters to this evil."

"Well said," he said. "We must be swift, though. Trahearne is a prisoner, and we're trying to rescue him before they take him to the Dragon itself."

"Trahearne's a prisoner? Oh, no! No wonder you're withering!" She squared her shoulders and nodded. "I will help you save him. Maybe I can't fight beside you, but I will fight alongside the Pact. What little I can offer is yours."

"Thank you, my sister. I am in your debt."

"And I think we'll all be in yours when this is over."

* * *

They finally caught up to Hope's Legacy and Rytlock on the next day. "Fancy meeting you here," Phiadi said, as Annhilda approached them. "How'd it go?"

"Took a little doing, but the egg is secure," Annhilda said. "Faolain?"

Marjory shook her head. "Still out there, unfortunately. She disappeared before we could take her down... _if_ we could take her down, that is. I'm not sure how that fight would have ended up with the three of you gone."

"Yeah, just when I thought Faolain couldn't get any worse," Annhilda said.

"What about Caithe?" Caoilfhionn asked.

"In typical Caithe fashion, she slipped away during the fight," Rytlock said.

Kasmeer looked at Caoilfhionn with concern. "You look worse than ever. Still having a hard time?"

"My brother's dead," he said shortly. "My sister is still alive, at least, and she fights on."

"I'm sorry," Marjory said – and she would know. "If it's any consolation, we think we're catching up to the Mordrem prisoners. If we keep on at this pace for a couple more days, we may catch them."

Did he dare let hope wax bright in his heart? He'd been ill rewarded by it so far... But he could not help it. To see Trahearne so soon, to ensure his safety, and then to strike down the Dragon at his side... he wanted that!

"That's great," Annhilda said. "Where's Taimi?"

"She wandered off as we took a short rest," Marjory said. "We were just about to go looking for her."

"We'd better do that now," Annhilda said. "The Pact is catching up, and having you out in front scouting has worked well so far."

"It's all thanks to Canach," Kasmeer said.

Canach shrugged. "Despite this being their favoured terrain, they have not been subtle. They have been going too quickly to cover their tracks."

"Okay, everyone split into pairs and look for Taimi," Annhilda said. "Marjory, Kasmeer, hold this point in case she comes back while we're gone."

Damara looked at Caoilfhionn. "Partners?" He nodded, and set off into the undergrowth away from the others.

They stopped to listen, periodically, and a few minutes later, Damara stopped and pointed. He listened carefully; there was something, but he couldn't tell if it was Taimi, and if Damara were not speaking, she didn't know if it was her either. And it was dangerous to draw attention out here.

They followed the slight sounds, the suspicious rustling, until Caoilfhionn was pretty certain that whatever it was was _not_ Taimi and that they were being baited. But who would bait them...?

Apparently Damara was having similar thoughts, because she slowed, then stopped, and he stopped with her. There was no point in getting drawn into an ambush here.

And just as they turned around, someone stepped out of the bushes before them. "Hello, Caoilfhionn."

"Malyck!" Caoilfhionn cried, forestalling Damara's arrows and her spider's poison. "How are you?"

Malyck shook his head, laughing to himself. "If you would but join the Dragon, you would no longer ask such pointless questions. I am well. I am always well now, with Mordremoth. And look at you! Withered, worn, carrying grief and pain and hope that will only be crushed. A beautiful cycle for enemies of the Dragon – but you need not be."

"Yeah, because Caoilfhionn would give up his free will out of _vanity_ ," Damara said sarcastically. "Don't you miss free will?"

Caoilfhionn reeled, the pressure building in his head, but he rallied. "He would not be able to say, but in his heart, he must. I will _never_ join the Dragon, Malyck. I am strong enough to resist to the end."

"I thought you would say that," Malyck said. "But if your mind will not be swayed, we can still use your body!" He drew his pistols and aimed, but Caoilfhionn had in the same instant drawn his daggers, sprinting forward with Fire and enveloping them both in a ring of flame. Both Malyck's shots missed and then he was forced to dodge back, sheathing his pistols again and drawing his sword. Sword clashed upon dagger, the sounds ringing from the trees. Damara was aiming, he sensed rather than saw for all his attention was on Malyck, but she did not dare shoot into their melee.

Fire, Air, Malyck was unmoved by them both. Water would not help him here, and Earth was too slow. If he could slow _Malyck_ , perhaps he could capture him. He summoned vines, slender bright green entangling things to wrap about Malyck's feet and legs – and for a moment Malyck nearly tripped. Better than the last time he'd tried that! But he recovered, tearing himself free and blocking Caoilfhionn's flame strike. "Do you think to challenge the Dragon with his own tactics? A fool you are." Malyck grinned and spiny dark Mordrem vines sprang up about Caoilfhionn's legs, anchoring him to the spot, clutching at him and tearing into his flesh. Caoilfhionn growled and cast down a ring of flames again, making them abruptly let go and flee back into the ground.

But Malyck slashed again, and Caoilfhionn's right hand dagger went flying from his grasp. Malyck smiled and stabbed forward; Caoilfhionn twisted around it, dropping his other dagger and seizing the hilt of the sword with both hands, trying to keep it away from him. It was a contest of strength now, and they wrestled, the blade quivering near Caoilfhionn's shoulder, then high in the air as Malyck sought to pull away from him. Caoilfhionn hung on grimly.

There was a whizz, and a thud, and Malyck dropped the sword, reeling back, clutching at his side where an arrow stuck out. "Fine. The third time will pay for all, though, Caoilfhionn! You will not escape again!"

"There won't-" Damara began, but even as she loosed her next arrow, Malyck had dodged into the undergrowth, surprisingly fast for an injured man. "Are you all right, Caoilfhionn?"

"Yes," he said. The mental pressure was also relenting, a little. He bent to recover his daggers, but he took another look at the sword he had wrested away from his former friend. It was a beautiful sword, surprisingly – or perhaps not so surprisingly. Most of the other Mordrem had thick, dark-coloured, jagged, thorned weapons, but Malyck had borne a slim, slightly curved blade, scarlet with a faint pulsing glow, and its hilt was simple and elegant, fitting who Malyck had been before. Perhaps he had made it or acquired it... before.

"Are you keeping that?" Damara asked.

"I'm considering it," Caoilfhionn said. "It is a fine weapon, though I only know a little how to use it. Perhaps it would give me greater reach, or allow me to try new ways to focus my abilities."

"I'm sure you can find plenty of people willing to teach you," Damara said.

"And I wish to honour Malyck... perhaps this is a strange way to do so, but I want him to know I do not hate him, even now. I know he had no choice. Perhaps it will inspire him. Though I am losing hope that he can be saved."

"Yeah," Damara said. "I'm sorry I had to shoot him. But it did make him go away. Next time we can try and have a plan ready, if you really want to catch him."

"Thank you, Damara."

They returned to the others; Annhilda returned a little later, with Taimi, and the news that there was an Asuran city somewhere to the east – and Mordremoth was definitely south. "Rox, I want you to keep heading south and looking for the caravan. The Rata Novans will almost certainly have information about Mordremoth, however, so Taimi and... I can't go myself, I have to lead the Pact. Who wants to go?"

"I'll go," Phiadi said. "I want to tap Wegaff, for a little extra genius power, and Canach, for muscle. Living muscle, at least."

"You think they'll have hints how to kill Mordremoth?" Braham said. "I want to go too."

"Fine, you can come," Phiadi said. "I don't mind having a larger entourage."

"I'm not going to be your entourage," Braham said, frowning. "I'm going to learn how to murder a dragon."

"Call it what you like," Phiadi said. "Anyone else?"

"I'm going with Rox," Caoilfhionn said. The city was irrelevant to him.

"Head out whenever you're ready," Annhilda said. "Catch up as soon as you can. Be careful."


	39. The Final March

39: The Final March

The trail led them to a place of low cliffs, and beneath those cliffs the ground opened up into a maze-like series of tunnels and caverns. It was impossible to tell direction down there in the dark, and the dry rocky ground meant the prisoner caravan trail faded into nothing almost immediately. The Pact spread out through the caverns, trying determinedly to brute force their way southwards. They came across more crashed Pact ships and gladly added them to their forces, and they came across hylek of the Nuhoch tribe whose massive size made Norn look like children, who did not mind allying with them.

But there were dangers other than Mordrem and getting lost here. The greatest of them all was a horde of horrible bugs named chak. They were of many, many varieties, or perhaps they were all one species that differentiated based on the stage of their life cycle, but they ranged from the size of a large hound up to the size of a small cottage. They were fast, and poisonous, and entrapping, and they _did not stop coming_. No matter how many they slew, there were always more, and their nests were made of such a hard material that no amount of explosives seemed to have any effect. Caoilfhionn very rapidly grew to hate them with almost more passion than Mordremoth.

He could not hate anyone more than Mordremoth. The voice was stronger in these caves, as they drew closer to the Dragon's hidden lair, no longer whispering in the back of his head but muttering, muttering loudly. It was difficult to tune out, and to watch Laranthir, and Eithne, and Mabbran, he knew they were struggling too. Yet when he saw their faces, when he gripped his ring, he remembered the Pale Tree, and he remembered Trahearne, and he knew who he was. He would not fall here, so close to his goal.

His goal was slipping away from him, though. Though Rox was skilled, and the others were eager to back her up, she did not know the way forward, and the Mordrem did. After a day or two, it became clear – they were losing ground on the prisoner caravan. It nearly drove Caoilfhionn to distraction, but there wasn't anything he could reasonably do about it. He did not know the way, and the chak swarmed in their path, slowing them further.

He had showed Malyck's blade to Annhilda, who looked at it curiously. "You're thinking of taking up the sword?"

"Yes. Do you know who might have time to teach me?"

"I wish I had time to teach you, but I don't right now. And this single-edged blade isn't the type of sword that I'm familiar with... Why don't you ask Bongo? He managed to put up with Faren long enough to get him competent, I'm sure he'd love a more cooperative student."

Bongo was a bit skeptical at first, indeed, but Caoilfhionn was, at least, a quick student, and practiced diligently, and the Human swordmaster was pleased by it. It wasn't too long before he felt he wouldn't hurt himself with it, and after fighting the chak in their brutal, unrelenting swarms several times, he learned quite well how to channel his elemental attunements through this new weapon. It naturally affected his casting, but the spells that developed organically from wielding a longer blade worked quite well for him.

The Pact eventually found great tunnels, ley-line caverns, pointing south, which sped their progress considerably – until they reached a dead end at the southernmost point, where the tunnels converged. There was a cavern so massive and awe-inspiring Rata Sum would nearly have fit into it, but the south end was simply rock and stone.

Caoilfhionn was surprised by Rhyoll's optimism. "No, I don't think we're stuck here. Occam, give it a big whack, would ya?" Occam obliged, and Rhyoll cupped his right ears towards the wall. "Yeah, this isn't solid stone. It's all fractured, and there's space behind it."

"That's great, but we don't have any heavy equipment to break it, and getting it will take time," Annhilda said.

Rhyoll looked offended. "Give me _some_ credit, Annhilda. There's not too many airship wrecks in this area, but there's two or three. If we can salvage... oh... four cannons and set them up in each of these ley-line tunnels, we should be able to channel enough energy to bust through."

"And how long will that take? Where are we going to get the power from? What about the chak?"

"Couple days, I think. I've got plans for the generators, we've lost a few copters we can salvage from. And the chak is your problem."

"Right. Rox, over here."

"What do you need, boss?" Rox asked.

"I'm going to go with Rhyoll's plan. If it works, we should be able to get the army through much faster than wandering these tunnels for days. But I want you to keep looking for another way through. The Mordrem got through, you can too."

"Sounds good!" Rox said. "I'll take anyone in the guild who you don't need."

"All right. Damara, I'm going to need you to help lead defense against the chak, but Caoilfhionn, Marjory, Kasmeer, and Rytlock, you can go with her."

"Good luck, everyone!" Damara said. "See you on the other side of this wall!"

* * *

It took them another day of searching to find a way south; hours of running screaming through a chak hive, hours of wriggling through narrow, wet twisting passages where the only light was Rox's lantern and Kasmeer's mesmer glow.

It was a relief when finally they saw the light of day before them, for the first time in nearly five days for Caoilfhionn, and heard the sound of wind again. And with the wind came renewed rumblings of domination and hatred. In the tangled depths it had risen and fallen from mutterings to mumbles, but now it was clear and sharp as his friends beside him, and it dragged at his will. Caoilfhionn stumbled as he stepped into the light, growing dizzy, and he needed a minute to adjust before he could move on again, gripping his ring tightly.

Kasmeer noticed. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, but even to himself he sounded strained. "I won't succumb." But the Dragon was near. Almost near enough to touch.

There was an airship wreck to their southeast, and they headed towards it. They only made it partway when a shadow popped out of the undergrowth. "Hey there."

"A-Agent Zrii!" Caoilfhionn cried. "I'm glad you're alive."

She nodded grimly. "Me too, though a lot of others didn't make it. What are you doing here? I thought you didn't make it to launch. You look terrible."

"We didn't make it to launch," Caoilfhionn said. "Hope's Legacy has been fighting their way here virtually from the Silverwastes."

Zrii's eyes opened wide. "Much respect to you, then. But for what? You don't think you're actually going to attack the Dragon, do you? With the five of you?"

"Oh yes, we're going to attack the Dragon," Rytlock growled. "The Pact went down hard, but we're not giving up."

"There's a lot more than five of us," Braham said. "The rest of the army is back with Commander Annhilda, trying to blow an alternate route out of the caves they're stuck in. They should be here tomorrow."

"We've managed to collect maybe a thousand, twelve hundred soldiers," Marjory said. "The Sylvari are having a hard time of it, but we're still here to do a job."

"That's what we said when we saw the fleet going down around us," Zrii said, turning and leading them towards the wreck. "That's why we pushed on anyway. I think we should have turned back. It's been hell out here, and we haven't been able to catch our breath enough to think about trying to escape. I was sure we were all going to die here."

"That could still happen, but it'll be as part of an army, and we'll go down fighting," Rytlock said cheerfully.

"Zrii, have you seen a prisoner caravan go by any time in the past week?" Caoilfhionn asked urgently.

"No – well, not to know it was prisoners. We kept our heads down if we heard Mordrem. No sense dying unnecessarily. Who's in it?"

"Trahearne, and Logan and Zojja," he said.

"We rescued Eir!" Braham put in.

"Oh my. No wonder you look half-dead," Zrii said, and patted his leg. "Sorry, I didn't see him. Them. There were some Mordrem going by about five days ago. Could have been them."

Caoilfhionn took a deep breath and touched his ring. He was late, but he had to get there. A brown leaf fell from his head, fluttering past his nose. He paid it no mind.

"Well, here we are," Zrii said. "There's fifty-two of us left, hidden under this huge tree."

"Listen up!" Rytlock boomed, striding forward into the little Pact camp. "You've done well to survive this long. Tomorrow the Pact Army should be arriving, so get ready! We're going to need mess facilities, repair facilities, a space for command HQ, and barracks. Who's your leader? Move!"

Kasmeer looked at Marjory. "What if it doesn't go according to plan? What if they get stuck behind that rock wall and can't make it on schedule?"

"Then morale falls a little lower," Marjory said. "But we've got to prepare for the army's arrival anyway."

"Ah, Charr efficiency," Rox said, smiling. "The Tribune will have this camp ready in no time."

Caoilfhionn went to look southward, but there was not much to see. The jungle seemed... lower, here, the vegetation and foliage more sparse than they had been further north. There were many rocky outcroppings and gigantic stumps. And faintly, on the edge of his sight, something that towered high into the sky. Why should the jungle seem to be dying here, when they were closer to the Jungle Dragon than ever? Was its influence too corrupting for normal plants to live? If he headed out there, would he only find grasping thorny vines and poisonous Blighting Trees?

If the army had not arrived on the next day, he was going on. With the others if they wanted to come. Alone if they did not.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was interrupted by a bright light coming from the northeast, as laser beams blasted into the sky. There was a distant rumbling crash, and the lasers ceased.

"Guess they did it!" Rox said. "Now the Dragon ought to start feeling scared."

Rytlock took a small team to go see if it really was Annhilda and the Pact, and to guide them to their camp if it was. Caoilfhionn waited impatiently in the lower branches of the camp tree, staring at the distant tower. It was at least a couple days' journey, he estimated, without running into trouble. And if Trahearne were five... now six days ahead... "Hold on," he whispered. "Wait for me. I'm coming for you. I swear it."

The mocking laughter of the Dragon was his only answer.

The Pact began arriving in an hour, a bit bedraggled and covered in chak guts, but Annhilda was in good spirits. "Too bad those laser cannons are too heavy to lug all the way to the Dragon! What's the situation, Tribune?"

"We don't have much of a map yet," Rytlock said, and handed over what the crashed Whispers agents had pieced together. "Blighting Trees here, here, and here, and this other... tree... thing that sits in the middle of a lake of magic. Pretty sure that's the Dragon's lair. Chak here. A 'golden structure', which I'm guessing means Exalted tech, here."

"Hm," Annhilda said. "We'll have to burn all the Blighting Trees simultaneously to deprive Mordremoth of its minion production. Trahearne, Logan, and Zojja?"

"No confirmed word. What did you find at Rata Novus?"

"No living Asura," Phiadi said. "A lot of obsolete tech. But there was a hidden lab specifically for studying the dragons, as Taimi guessed there would be. We left Wegaff and Taimi there to study up to their hearts' content."

"Any immediately applicable information?" Rytlock asked.

"Not a whole lot," Braham said.

"They determined every Elder Dragon has a specific weakness," Phiadi said. "They didn't figure out what, and they were mostly focused on Primordus, of course. But doing here what we did against Zhaitan was doomed to failure before it began. With Zhaitan, we at least had the benefit of Trahearne having studied the thing for twenty-odd years."

Annhilda smiled. "We'd been charging headlong against Mordremoth not even knowing if it could be beaten, only that we had to beat it. Now we know it's possible. We just have to find out how."

"That's it!?" Caoilfhionn demanded, unimpressed and angry. "Thorns! I didn't need the _hope_ that we could defeat the dragon. That was always an inevitability for me, whether in hope or despair." His Wyld Hunt agreed vehemently. At least they hadn't wasted more than five people on such a futile trip.

"Not everyone is a romantically stubborn try-hard," Rytlock said. "This will be useful for future Dragons as well. We'll know not to try the same tactic twice again."

Caoilfhionn turned away. "It's not time yet to think of other Dragons. This one is before us and any others are only a distraction." There was always the possibility that they all died against Mordremoth, but he refused to consider that.

"Hear, hear," Braham said.

"All right, settle down," Annhilda said rather sharply. "Go away and prepare to get moving. Damara, Phiadi, we're going to each head to a Blighting Tree. I'll go for the western one..."

Caoilfhionn left; Braham and Canach followed him. "I wonder if Zojja or Logan knows anything about the Dragon's weakness," Braham said. "Since they've been with the Mordrem this long."

Canach glanced at him. "I have to say, I'm still a little surprised you'd consider that instead of just trying to bash it with your mace."

"I'm not counting that out either," Braham said. "Hey, Caoilfhionn, when did you start wearing a sword?"

"About the time you went to the useless Asura city," Caoilfhionn said, still irritated.

Canach raised an eyebrow. "You might have benefited from a visit. The Dragon's call was but a whisper again there. He's quite fussy here, isn't he?"

"Was it becoming too much for you?" Caoilfhionn asked without rancor.

"Is it for you?"

"No. My resolve is stronger than that." He touched his ring.

Canach saw, and smirked. "Mine as well."

"Spirits, I'm glad I don't have to deal with that," Braham said. "We did meet a Mordrem who almost turned back... but then he didn't."

Caoilfhionn looked up sharply. "Tell me more."

"Hm." Canach thought back. "He said giving in was a 'relief'. He knew the things he did were wrong, but he could only watch. But he still heard the call, and it took him again as we watched."

"I wonder..."

"You wonder if we could be saved, should we fall? Perhaps when the Dragon is slain, perhaps not. It felt like he had lost his grip on reality even when he was begging us for help."

"Not for us," Caoilfhionn said. "For another."

"Trahearne?"

"No. I... had a friend, once, who was Sylvari, but not of the Pale Tree..." And he told Canach the entire story.

Canach, to his credit, did not mock him even once. "You have to remember that we have the protection of the Pale Tree. Your friend does not and did not. The Dragon will have drowned anything left of him a long time ago."

"But he remembers!" Caoilfhionn cried. "He remembers me."

Canach put a hand on his shoulder, and Caoilfhionn stared in surprise. He hadn't expected this much compassion. "He has tried to kill you or turn you twice. Even if he can be saved, you may not have the option."

"I know. And I will not die before I have saved Trahearne... even if it means killing Malyck. But I can't help hoping..."

"We could take him prisoner?" Braham suggested.

Canach shook his head. "Too risky. Especially if your friend is as bold and clever as you say. Would you feel comfortable caging me, if I turned?"

"Good point," Braham said, but Caoilfhionn hesitated.

And turned suddenly, looking into the jungle. "Who goes there!?"

A blue-green hand parted the ferns and a tall, beautiful Sylvari stepped out, clad in ornate leaves. "You have nothing to fear from me."

"Nightmare Court," growled Canach. "What are you doing here? Come to follow your Grand Duchess?"

"Most assuredly not," retorted the woman. "I am Duchess Chrysanthea and I am here to pledge alliance with your Pact."

"What?" Braham asked. "Why should we trust you?"

"Let me explain this in small words you'll understand, little boy," Chrysanthea said. "The Nightmare Court seeks freedom. The Dragon obliterates that freedom far better than anything the Pale Tree could ever do; it threatens us just as much as it threatens you. Grand Duchess Faolain... is dead, and turned, and is no longer our mistress. The Court follows me, now. We came here only to slay the Dragon. We can certainly go back to making small war upon each other _after_ it is gone."

"Where are your followers? How many are there?" Canach asked.

"A hundred, and I don't think you need to know where. We shall join in the fighting, not your silly camps."

"I suppose we can let her make her case to Annhilda," Caoilfhionn said.

Canach cast an amused look at him. "Caoilfhionn, I'm shocked. So quick to trust the Nightmare Court, are you?"

They had all sorts in their army, not only Vigil, Priory, and Whispers; not only Valiants and Seraph and Legionaires and hunters and Peacemakers; there were also skritt and ogres and Itzel and Nuhoch. The Nightmare Court might be more wicked than any other ally they currently had, but Chrysanthea felt sincere, and her plea was sensible. "I don't really care as long as her word holds. You _do_ speak for all your followers, don't you?"

"If any of them disagree, they can speak to my staff," Chrysanthea said with a wicked smile. "But I do give you my word, you can trust me until we have all made it out of this dreadful corrupted jungle again. And that is the best I can offer you."

"I'll go get Annhilda," Caoilfhionn said.

* * *

Scouts went out and mostly returned; the way ahead was heavily fortified by great Mordrem plants and defended in great numbers. Annhilda looked at her forces. "It's been a long road to come here. None of us thought it would happen like this. But we have made it to the last push. We will do what we have come to do! This Dragon will not threaten our homes, our families again! We just have a little farther to go, and by the Spirits or the Gods or the Eternal Alchemy – by whatever you believe in, we will triumph! So steel your hearts and your minds, and follow me!"

It was a long, slow pitched battle to move south. Caoilfhionn had joined to Phiadi's group, the one going directly south first. She was delighted to find some Asuran ruins – less delighted to find the Inquest were already snooping around – and not nearly as fascinated as Caoilfhionn was to see Rata Sum in the distance. To him it really hammered home how much danger Tyria was in; if the Dragon had turned its attention to Metrica Province, the Asura as a nation would have been hard put to it from the beginning.

"And the Arcane Council would still sit on their fat bottoms and pretend that nothing's wrong!" Phiadi said acerbically. "Believe me, sometimes I think a dragon attack would do them good. Why couldn't we have had that summit in Rata Sum and woken everyone up?"

"You would wish a dragon attack on your own people?" Caoilfhionn asked.

"Look, you met Phlunt."

"I admit that the Arcane Council is dislikeable... but I still wouldn't wish a Dragon upon all Asura. I'll fight to my death to defend even Phlunt from Mordremoth." To do otherwise would be dishonourable. No matter what they had done to his people, no matter the Inquest's crimes.

"I don't really understand," Phiadi said. "You seem to think that your suffering matters to the Eternal Alchemy. Mordremoth wants you to suffer, probably, because it's an arrogant git, but you know it really doesn't do Trahearne any good."

"I know it doesn't," he said. "I know that I cannot bargain my sap for his. But I feel so useless else. I'd endure any pain, take any wound – I'd fight to my last breath as Riannoc did, if only he could be spared."

"And you're _still_ saying that after more than a month of this slog," Phiadi said. "You know, I'm fond of a few people. I'm not saying who and I'm not saying how much. But to me, it's much more practical to focus on how much violence is necessary to protect your man rather than how much blood you'd shed yourself. Ideally, you'd shed no blood at all."

"I am his knight," Caoilfhionn said. "Violence is a side effect of my duty, not its focus. To shed my sap for those I defend is my honour."

"I think we'll have to disagree there," Phiadi said. "I'd go berserk if- well, I'm not saying for whom. But I wouldn't take a scratch while doing it. Or at least not a big one. At some point, he's only a man. They can't be replaced, but they're not worth your entire life."

"We will indeed have to disagree," Caoilfhionn said, already displeased with the turn of the conversation. "No sacrifice is too great, for without him, my life has no meaning."

"You're so dramatic," Phiadi sighed.

He frowned at her. "Pot, kettle."

She chuckled. "Nice one. Well, we've wasted enough time. Let's get back to it."

It was three days later that the Blighting Trees burned, their champions laid low, and the way to the Dragon's lair cleared. The three Pact divisions halted briefly, on the edge of cliffs overlooking a mysterious lake of fog that stood between them and the massive tree trunk where the Dragon dwelt. While the army counted their losses and tended their wounded, Annhilda summoned Hope's Legacy and Rytlock to her. "This is it, everyone. I'm going to stay here and lead the army. Phiadi, I need you with me."

"Of course you do," Phiadi said. "Was there a question about it?"

"I'm sending the rest of you out to rescue Trahearne, Logan, and Zojja," Annhilda said. "Damara, I'm sending you too. Laranthir will take control of the western division."

"Okay!" Damara said. "Works for me, he's still technically my boss anyway."

Annhilda turned to him. "Caoilfhionn."

"Yes."

"Can I put you in charge of this?"

He was a little taken aback. He had not commanded a mission in a long time, not officially. But he knew why Annhilda asked. "Yes. I can lead us. With Damara's help."

"Is that a good idea?" Rytlock asked. "I don't want him so focused on Trahearne he blunders into a trap."

"That is an excellent point," Caoilfhionn acknowledged. "But I will not fail him... and I will not fail you."

"That's not the most reassuring thing you could say," Marjory said. "But I know how you feel." Her eyes were distant, and Kasmeer squeezed her hand.

"I'll help, no question," Damara said.

"Me too," said Kasmeer. "We're all here to get this done."

"I have faith in you," Annhilda said. "You've grown to be wise and thoughtful, pup. And if the chance comes that you can hurt the Dragon from another angle, you take it."

Canach smiled grimly. "With pleasure."

"Will do," Caoilfhionn said. "One way or another, it dies today."


	40. Hearts and Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this there are two endings, a 'bad end' because I don't want to miss out on the delicious drama that comes with it, and a 'good end' where Caoilfhionn overcomes even the final obstacle preventing him from being able to earn a happy ending. Schrödinger's Trahearne, if you will. : P
> 
> Soundtrack for the Mordremoth fight is [Between Heaven and Earth](https://youtu.be/7eU-RcMsTpI) from FE3H, both Rain and Storm but mostly Storm. (The video combines it with Blue Skies and a Battle because they're really the same piece, and I believe that although the title says 'Thunder', the intense version of Between Heaven and Earth is actually the Storm mix. BHaE starts at [5:42](https://youtu.be/7eU-RcMsTpI?t=342).)

40: Hearts and Minds

The southern end of the jungle was a chaotic mess of porous stone; of exposed ley lines; of vines and corruption, interspersed with little pockets of cheerful, flower-sprinkled, bright green jungle. The little band was trying to travel unseen around the south end of the lake, though the trail of the prisoners was practically non-existent by now. "Dragging those three all this way, so close to its power... Do you think Mordremoth knew we would follow?" asked Kasmeer.

"You smell a trap?" Rox asked.

"Just keep your eyes open," Caoilfhionn said. "We don't want to get boxed in here. Kas, scout ahead. We'll meet you at the fork in the road."

"Right away!" Kasmeer said, and vanished.

She was back not long after. "I found the rest of Destiny's Edge, but they're heavily guarded," she said. "No sign yet of Trahearne, sorry. That trail leads to Logan, the high road to Zojja."

"Are they alive?" Braham asked.

"I couldn't tell," Kasmeer said. "Your, um, orders, Caoilfhionn?"

"Marjory, Canach, Damara, you're with me. We'll go get Logan. Rytlock, Braham, Rox, and Kas, head for Zojja and watch for Trahearne."

"What if we're too late?" Rytlock asked.

"Burn the bodies," Damara said grimly. Caoilfhionn took a shuddering breath, and nodded.

They were surprised by Mordrem Guard around the next bend in the path, and for a few minutes they were fighting for their lives. Even as they thinned the enemy and won their way through, the Dragon's voice crashed over them – over him. " _You are weak. Give in, and find peace_."

Caoilfhionn stumbled, staggering sideways into an alcove in the rock, his head pounding. The Dragon's face seemed to float before him, beckoning with its eerie yellow eyes. Just a moment... he just needed to rest for a moment...

" _Wake. Join us._ "

He started and jumped up. How long had he been asleep? What was he doing... why did his head feel so heavy...?

"Here you are," said a familiar voice, and Caoilfhionn looked up to see a friend smiling at him. His vision was blurring at the edges, and he was still so very tired... His nap had not done him much good, apparently. "It's good to finally see you here, Caoilfhionn."

"I'm... Where am I?"

"Safe," said his friend, reaching out his hand to support him. "Safe with the Dragon."

As he touched him, as he heard the words, his head and vision cleared. "Malyck!" Friend, yes. Safe, no. The hollow malice he felt in Malyck made that abundantly clear.

"Come! Let us hunt together. It'll be like old times. We can save your friend Canach, at least. We can't save the others... but they can still be useful."

Caoilfhionn backed away, shaking his head. It ached, and the Dragon's call snarled in it, nearly drowning out the clamour of his Wyld Hunt, but he resisted. "No, Malyck. I have not turned. I will not be a slave to that monster. Canach will not turn either. Don't try to fight us. You will die, and I don't wish that."

Malyck's face hardened, his burning scarlet eyes flaring brighter. "You still resist? Then it is as I said. Third time pays for all... and you do not know how to use that sword as I do, I think." He drew his own new sword, charging straight at Caoilfhionn – who rolled back with a trail of Air sparks, buying himself half a second of reaction time as Malyck twitched.

"I don't want to kill you, Malyck," Caoilfhionn said. "But there is nothing more important to me than getting to Trahearne. If I must kill you, then so be it."

"You will never reach him now," Malyck said. "He is already one of us."

"He would die first," Caoilfhionn said. "But he will not, because I am coming for him."

"You'll see," Malyck said, with a grin, and Caoilfhionn gritted his teeth and slashed with fire.

"It's not right!" he cried, emotions erupting out of his control. "I should never have let you go alone! You were supposed to find your family! To bring back an army to help us _fight_ the Dragons!" The swords clashed on each other, never locking, Fire and Air crackling between them.

"Fighting the Dragons is futile... and foolish," Malyck said. "You only doom yourselves in trying – and you doom yourselves worse if you succeed."

"What do you mean?" Caoilfhionn hesitated the briefest moment, startled, and was nearly run through. No, he could not listen! Mordremoth _would_ say that, wouldn't he! "It doesn't matter! If slaying Mordremoth slays all Sylvari, then we shall die to free the world! We will not be consumed!"

"It is inevitable. Me, you, Trahearne, your foolish flailing friends. All who were born of your Tree will come to Mordremoth, and all will be as it should be. And you will bring them."

The grip on his mind was excruciating, threading through his thoughts, interrupting them like lightning strikes interrupting a dark sky, the voice roaring in his head, twisting his sight. "I... will... not!" He lunged recklessly and stabbed – straight into Malyck's gut.

Malyck grunted a little and stumbled back. Caoilfhionn's eyes widened and he reached for him-

Malyck toppled backwards and fell from the cliff, down, down into the dark chasm below.

For a long moment, he stared, gasping for air, unable to process what he had just seen and felt. Malyck was gone... forever. No chance of redemption... and at his hand, too.

He did not regret what he had done. Mordremoth's call had lessened, for the moment. He needed to move forward – he desperately needed to catch up to the others. But another deep wound was carved on his heart.

He ran his hand over his aching head, and what was left of his leaves fell, withered, brown and dry. He was nearly as bald as Canach now, only scattered stems protruding from his scalp. He didn't care. Trahearne would still love him even if he lost his physical beauty.

There was a low call from ahead, and Damara ran to him, Canach and Marjory following behind her. "Caoilfhionn! Thank the Gods! Are you all right? We feared the worst."

With an effort, he pulled his eyes away from the abyss where Malyck had fallen and back into the present. "I'm okay. Just... ran into a little trouble back there."

Canach looked closely at him. "Back there? Or in here?" He tapped his head.

He was recovering, though. "My head is fine, Canach. I'm glad to see yours is still attached to your shoulders."

Canach gave him the barest smirk. "It gets harder and harder to keep it there, I know..."

"Just give us a call if you're having trouble," Marjory said. "It was a bit of a scare to lose you like that."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll try harder. How far away is Logan?"

* * *

Logan was not far away, and after fighting more snipers than Caoilfhionn really thought necessary, they cut open his blighting pod and Damara and Canach dragged him out. His armour was in tatters, his skin sickly pale, and his eyes were closed.

"Logan?" asked Damara.

"Logan, can you hear me?" Marjory asked.

Logan moaned and blinked slowly, his gaze unfocussed. "The others... Zojja..."

"We're getting you out," Marjory said.

"The darkness," Logan mumbled. "I didn't know where to stand... It was lifting me."

"You're safe now," Damara said. "Can you walk?" Logan shook his head.

"Did the Mordrem let anything slip about the Dragon? A weak spot, perhaps?" Canach asked.

"No. Nothing."

"Marjory, steady him and meet up with us," Damara said. "Caoilfhionn, we should go ahead to find the others." Caoilfhionn nodded and led the way.

"She didn't want to leave the plant with the plant food," Canach said to him, and he snorted.

"We're both at risk of turning," he pointed out. "We can steady each other. And maybe I... I don't actually mind your company."

"I don't blame you," Canach said, sardonic, yet less so than usual.

The others were in trouble as well, swarmed with even more Mordrem Guard, big heavy punishers and cavaliers. "They came out of nowhere!" Rox exclaimed.

"Zojja?" demanded Caoilfhionn – and stopped, and stared. "Caithe. What are you doing here?

Rytlock shook his head. "They stopped us; we didn't make it yet. We found _her_ tracking Faolain, and then we were waylaid by this group of Mordrem protecting that twisted branch." Caithe nodded to him calmly.

Damara grimaced expressively. "Faolain's here too?"

"Whatever that thing is, it's not Faolain," Caithe said. "I came to put it out of its misery."

"Get in line," Braham said.

"Behind me, too," Rytlock said.

"No time to argue," Damara said. "We have to get Zojja. Braham, she makes one wrong move, stop her."

"Sure," Braham said. "Hand over the daggers, traitor."

Caoilfhionn should have spoken up, but his trust in Caithe had been shaken too, and he had enough roiling in his own heart he could not spare any feelings for her. Caithe did as she was told and followed them.

Not a moment later, a troop of small, green, leafy Zojjas popped out of the undergrowth, wailing. "Burn... Burn us! Kill us!"

"Poor devils," Rytlock said. "Far be it from me to deny their wishes."

"These vile trees!" Caoilfhionn cried. "So that's why they were brought here!"

"Zojja!" Damara cried. "I'm going to get her out!"

"Get back, it's going to explode!" said Canach, and even as Damara reached the pod, it burst open with a sickening plop, depositing Zojja's unconscious body unceremoniously on the ground.

"She's unconscious," Damara said, as Rytlock finished off the last of the clones. "We must have been too late. She's much worse than Logan."

Kasmeer looked up quickly. "You found him?"

"They did indeed," said Logan himself, stumbling into their midst on Marjory's arm.

Rytlock grinned. "Logan! I knew they couldn't make mulch out of you."

"Rytlock!" said Logan, managing a weary smile of his own. "You came back- where _were_ you?"

Rytlock shrugged. "Oh, learning a thing or two here and there in the Mists. You know, typical jumping-into-a-rift sort of thing."

"Anything to help me kill this Dragon?" Logan asked.

"Why don't you let us handle that?" Rytlock said, surprisingly tactfully. "This team... they're as good as we ever were. You two go and hang out with Eir. She's probably antsy for company."

"Eir's all right?" Logan said. "I see Caithe's on probation..."

"Eir was badly wounded when we rescued her," Braham said. "But she's alive. And yeah, she'd probably appreciate seeing you both also alive."

"Isn't this touching?" said a new voice from above them, an arrogant voice, and they looked up to see the horrible mutated form of Faolain crouching on a cliff a small distance away. "Destiny's Edge reunited at last. Zojja, you're looking well. Caoilfhionn, your leaves look marvelous."

"Faolain!" cried Braham.

"It isn't Faolain," Caithe said. "Mordremoth is behind those eyes."

"Whoever it is is about to be put into a grave," Braham said.

Faolain chuckled merrily. "You'll have to catch me first." With a flick of her vinetooth tail, she was gone.

"Let's go!" Braham cried, charging ahead.

"Kas, take Zojja and Logan and portal them out of here," Damara ordered. "Rox, go with. Keep 'em safe."

"With me!" Caoilfhionn cried, running in Faolain's wake. "She shan't get away!" Rytlock growled and dashed up beside him on all fours; Caithe and Braham were right behind him.

Her voice still carried to them. "You may have uprooted Zojja and Logan, but you'll never make it to Trahearne in time. Don't you see? Harmony is coming, and you will join Mordremoth."

"Your harmony is slavery, and we will not stand for it!" Caithe cried. She turned to Damara. "Commander, please! Let me fight! I can help you reach Trahearne! I only want to kill the Dragon! Its death might kill me – the entire Sylvari people – but that's better than living in its grasp! It's the only end I've been working toward."

Damara looked at Caoilfhionn. Caoilfhionn looked at Caithe. Her words spoke to his heart, and he believed them – even if she had not seemed in her right mind when she took the egg. "Fine. But don't cross us again. Braham, give her daggers back to her."

"Fine," Braham grumbled.

The chase led them onward, across jagged rocks, ever closer to the gigantic tree. Faolain was fleeing there... undoubtedly leading them to trouble. And they came upon it, small pockets of Mordrem Guard, but they blasted through, unburdened by anything but the need to overcome. Over on their right, across the lake, they could see the battle of the Pact against the Dragon, gliders fluttering and zipping over the lake of enchanted mist, coasting on ley-lines and buoyed by strong wind currents, hopping from island to island of weathered ley-stone. The Dragon threaded through them like a great armoured serpent clad in violet-green plates. They could hear its cries, hear the mumble of magically-amplified orders, and the sharp reports of blackpowder weapons. The sounds echoed off the massive tree and the cliffs around the lake; Caoilfhionn could have closed his eyes and still sensed exactly how large the lake was.

Faolain came to the trunk of the tree and disappeared into it. They followed, lower down, finding their way in through a channel cracked in the ley-line-weathered rock. The interior of the tree was unbelieveable; two ramps winding like a helix up out of a pool of dark water up to near the top of the tree, far above them.

Caoilfhionn gazed up in grim wonder. "We're here. This thing. This tree must be the Dragon's... epicentre."

"Yes, I feel Mordremoth's eyes bearing down upon me," said Canach.

Braham looked confused. "Where is the beast? Isn't everyone else fighting it?" He pointed back north-east, where they had just seen the army fighting.

Caoilfhionn shook his head. "It's not one thing out here, Braham. It's everything! That's... only a small manifestation of it. If they kill it, we will be no closer to victory than when we began."

"The entire time we were traversing this jungle, we were afoot on its back," Canach said. "Like fleas on a hound."

"Eugh," Damara said. "But I guess bombarding the entire jungle wasn't as crazy as I thought it was."

"If that's the case, then..." Braham yelled and whacked the tree, leaving a heavy splintered crater in the soft, partially rotted wood. "...I know it doesn't really hurt it; just something I had to do."

"What will hurt it, then?" Marjory said. "If it's in another dimension, that's cheating."

"We'll figure it out," Caoilfhionn said. "But first we must free Trahearne from whatever fate Mordremoth has in store for him here."

"I've spent much of my life hating the Firstborn, always being compared to them," Canach said beside him as they started up the closest ramp. "In our Mother's eyes, Trahearne was perfect and none of us could live up to him. But now..."

"And now...?" Caoilfhionn asked, looking up at him.

"With Mordremoth pounding against my willpower, I'm barely holding on. And yet Trahearne... he flew his airships straight at it. I can only admire him now. We must find him."

Caoilfhionn, in this late, desperate hour, laughed. He hadn't done that in a while. "He was never perfect. He has made mistakes... but he tried his hardest and he overcame his fears. What else can any of us do?" Trahearne had not known Mordremoth's strength. His boldness was not from bravery this time.

But had he known, he probably would have done it anyway. Trahearne never turned back once he had set his sights on a goal.

Canach let out a sigh. "I worry that it's already too late. Mordremoth will have its hooks in Trahearne's body and mind much deeper than it did in Zojja and Logan. It's what we Sylvari were designed for."

Caoilfhionn clenched his fists. "We'll find a way. We... have to."

* * *

They climbed the ramps, fighting Mordrem and vines, up, up, up to find where Faolain waited for them, in a hollow in the wood, a hollow filled with blighting pods. The monster paced back and forth before them, animalistic and menacing, but Caoilfhionn's attention was fixed solely on the blighting pods, upon one encasing a tall, slender figure.

"You cannot stop the inevitable," Faolain hissed. "You cannot silence the pulse of this world."

"Trahearne!" Caoilfhionn sprinted for the blighting pod, heedless of Faolain. He reached it and struck it with his fists, scraped at it, trying to tear it open. "Trahearne! I'm here!"

A blow from the side knocked him to the floor of the hollow and Faolain's horrifyingly gigantic face was looming over him, inches away, her head more than half as tall as his entire body. She leered with scarlet eyes as big as his handspan, her mouth large enough to bite off his whole head. "Trahearne is ours!"

He drew his knife with his sword-hand and slashed it between them, terror warring with fury within him, blowing fire into her face and making her reel away with a squeak of pain. "Trahearne is _mine_! And I am his! While I breathe you shall never have him!"

"Oh, don't be so possessive," Faolain cooed, darting back from him and watching them all with a predatory smile. "There's room here for you both."

"Get her!" Damara yelled, loosing an arrow that lodged in Faolain's branch-like leaves.

"You can't run forever, Faolain!" Braham said, charging forward with the rest of them. Caoilfhionn jumped up and joined them, spinning fire between Rytlock and Canach.

"Braham, how _is_ your mother?" Faolain asked, spinning and knocking Marjory down with her tail. "Do give her my best."

Braham snarled and swung, missing, at her clawed foot. "By Wolf's breath, she will be avenged today!"

Faolain chortled. "I know Eir and I had our differences, but I hope she didn't think I was a _thorn_ in her side." Braham's only reply was an enraged scream.

"Faolain, please!" Caithe begged. "If there's any part of you left... let us free Trahearne!" Futile, but he understood. She could not but love, deep down.

Faolain turned on her, focusing the full power of her attacks upon Caithe alone. "You still don't understand. There was never Faolain, there was never Caithe, there was never Trahearne... There was always _Mordremoth_!" Caithe gasped under the onslaught, vanishing and reappearing a little further away. Faolain prowled after her, but Braham got in the monster's way. "Caithe, don't you know it's dangerous to rebel against your creator?"

Caithe spun, daggers flashing, dancing between the monster's feet and carving deep into its chest area. "I don't care the cost! The Dragon will fall, and we will be free – in life or in death!"

Faolain screamed and reeled back, swatting at Caithe, but she was no longer there, dodging away, Marjory coming up in her wake to slash with her long sword. Rytlock roared, channeling magic through his flaming sword, hemming Faolain in from the other side. Faolain snarled, springing high and away from them, then charging back in to knock them down with the power of her passing. Canach swung into her path, Moon shield high and immoveable, and she drove him back with her head but could not knock him down. Caoilfhionn shot past him, crashing into her with the force and fire of a meteor, and she stumbled. Damara's hawk stooped upon Faolain's head, pecking at her eyes, and Damara's arrows sank into her neck.

Faolain screeched even louder, rearing back to slam down upon them all, and Caithe leapt up, taking flight from Rytlock's shoulder, and slashed through her throat. The monster gurgled, clawing at the air, and collapsed before them heavily. Her claws scrabbled at the wood for a moment before she sighed and lay still, scarlet eyes still open and staring eerily.

"It is done," Caithe said, breathing hard. She closed her eyes and swayed a little.

"Caithe, are you...?" Marjory began.

"Fine," Caithe said, opening her eyes again. "I made my peace with Faolain's death when I saw what she'd become. Now I must destroy her body."

"And-" The blighting pod cracked, and oozed open. Caoilfhionn turned to rush to his beloved, but Mordremoth was one step ahead of him. Trahearne was hanging limp from a vine that had swallowed his lower half, and it yanked him away, just as Caoilfhionn reached out for him. " _No! Trahearne!_ "

The vine thrashed and pulled back into the whirlpool under the tree. Without pause, Caoilfhionn leapt after.

* * *

He had sunk through the water at the bottom of the tree and fallen into a tunnel full of air – as if the water had only been a layer. But now here he was in a dark tunnel full of tree roots, made of tree roots, smelling of bitter earth and stagnant water, and Trahearne was nowhere to be seen.

The others were following after. "What a strange place this is. Either this is a trap, or the Dragon's getting desperate," Marjory said as she landed in a ready crouch, reaching for her nodachi.

"Doesn't matter," Rytlock grunted. "Trahearne's here, and even if he is just bait, he'll still lead us to Mordremoth."

"Mordremoth's here too," Caoilfhionn said. "I can feel its mind all around us." He breathed slowly, fighting its pressure. His mind was all a jumble between the Dragon's call, his Wyld Hunt, and his heart's cry for his love. There was no need to be led anywhere. They had come to the end of their journey.

"Yes," Canach said. "It's like some great fist... And it's squeezing."

Caoilfhionn looked at him and offered a hand. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get this Dragon out of my head for good."

Canach shook his hand with a fierce grin. "Agreed. Mordremoth must pay. And the world needs to see a Sylvari exact payment."

Caoilfhionn nodded and turned to lead the way down the tunnel. It twisted and wound its way through the roots, and he could not see very far before him, nor hear – it was as if the roots absorbed all the sound around them.

They had not gone far when the tunnel shook. " _Armies cannot stop me_."

Canach looked up. "The Dragon is focused on the battle outside. We'll never get a better chance."

The tunnel was opening up, and Caoilfhionn could see in the slightly larger space – there ahead of them was a figure, upright now, blinking awake... with burning red eyes.

" _Trahearne!_ " The cry was torn loudly from his throat, and he ran to his love, heedless of the danger in those eyes. "I'm sorry I took so long, I'm sorry for all you've suffered..." He went to put his arms about him, but Trahearne put out a hand to stop him. "Trahearne?" Had he fallen? His body had been half-hardened from soft leafy flesh to jagged wood, his face half seized by corruption.

The expressive side of Trahearne's face was yearning, his breathing unsteady, and he reached out as if to touch Caoilfhionn's cheek, but pulled back. "I cannot... I dare not touch you, beloved, else I lose my concentration. But you look as though you've suffered just as much as I have... I'm sorry for causing you such pain."

He shook his now-bald head. "I'd endure much more for you. But I'm here now, and together we will fight." Caladbolg lay nearby, notched and splintered in two, wedged into a half-cloven vine, its light dimmed. He must have fought desperately, alone, to the last of his strength. Oh, how he loved him!

Trahearne swayed, a hand to his head. "It's too late. I know – I am part of the Jungle Dragon now. It is everywhere."

"Trahearne," Caithe said softly. "...Faolain is dead."

Trahearne nodded. "I felt it. You have been so strong, Caithe. And you are free now. I'm happy for you."

"So how do we kill it?" burst out Braham. "Burn every field and fell every forest?"

"No," Trahearne said, to Damara's relief. "It can't be defeated that way. It'll just grow back. Its roots have spread too far, too deep."

"Then we destroy the root," Damara said. "Mordremoth is the Dragon of the Mind. Its strongest attacks come from its mind. That's our target."

"Sound strategy, Commander," Canach said. "Turn the tables and attack the Dragon the same way it's been attacking us? Brilliant." There was a distant howl, and the tunnel shook. "You don't need a translator to understand that – the Dragon doesn't like this idea."

"Or the army just struck a good hit," Damara said.

"They have slain the Dragon's body," Trahearne said, looking upwards as if he could see to the surface. "It is in pain, and full of rage, preparing to grow a new body to destroy them with."

"Then let's kill it before it can," said Caoilfhionn. "Kill it, and free you."

"Yes..." Trahearne said softly. "Strike at the Dragon's mind through the Dream. It can work. And my connection will provide the access you need." He breathed, gathering himself. "I'm ready. If I concentrate, I can open a path into the Dream... into Mordremoth's mind. Your minds will make the journey, but your bodies will remain here in the cavern."

"Just like Mother does," Caoilfhionn said. "Incredible!"

Rytlock grunted. "I've seen enough metaphysical landscapes lately. I'll stay behind to keep the Mordrem at bay."

"I'll stay too," Marjory said. "If something goes wrong... or Trahearne isn't what he seems to be... I'll be standing by."

"Trahearne is strong enough," Caoilfhionn said fiercely. "And so am I."

"You don't _have_ to be so defensive," Marjory said.

"Let me fight," Caithe said to him. "You may not trust me, but we both know Mordremoth will enslave us all, just like Faolain. Let me help you end this. The Pale Tree may never recover... but someone has to destroy Mordremoth and lead our people out of the misery it created for us. I know you can do it. I want to help."

Caoilfhionn looked at all his friends and companions. Caithe wanted to come; so did Braham, and so did Canach, and so did Damara. But Damara stepped back. "I know how important this is to all of you. I'll watch your backs out here."

"Really?" Caoilfhionn asked, unsure if he were grateful or regretful. Both.

"Wait... so everyone going into Mordremoth's mind is a Sylvari except Braham?" Rytlock said. "Does anyone else see a problem here?"

"Nah," Braham said. "I'll do it myself if I have to."

"We will all support each other," Caithe said. "Be strong, everyone."

"You are ready?" Trahearne said. "I... I want you to know... I'm so proud of you all. Thank you."

"We're almost there, beloved," Caoilfhionn said to Trahearne, and found his eyes closing before he could see or hear Trahearne's response.

* * *

He was falling into a void, a void filled with vines, grasping and choking all light. A voice thundered around him, echoing through his head as if all that existed were pure sound. " _You should not have come here. I am everywhere. I am all_."

"Only in your mind," Caoilfhionn said, as he landed on a small fragment of coherent reality in this chaotic void, an island made of leystone and vines. "And I will reduce your mind to ashes before I'm done."

The dragon's ghostly face loomed before him. " _Bold words. But empty ones_."

He drew his sword and pointed it straight at the Dragon; his blade flamed as fiercely as Rytlock's with the strength of his passion. "We'll see how empty they are in a minute."

The Dragon snarled and vanished, and in its place they fought spectres – of Eir and Garm, of Canach, of the Pale Tree, all blighted and turned to the Dragon's control. But they were only illusions, and as they fought each of the phantoms, Mordremoth left itself vulnerable in its eagerness to destroy them. One by one, they brought low the illusions, and the Dragon growled in rage each time.

"We're weakening it," Caoilfhionn said in the first breathing space they bought for themselves, pointing to where the vines that made up this strange pocket dimension had begun to wither and crumble. "Breaking its grip on the mindscape gives us the chance to take control. Our minds have power here, too. Let's use it!"

A deep laugh cut him off. " _I am the only possible victor. Become part of me and endure... or fall forever into oblivion. We are the same. Let your mind merge with mine._ "

Caoilfhionn stumbled to his knees as the full force of the Dragon's power bore down on him and him alone. "I can't... I can't concentrate... can't think... Help me! Mother... Trahearne...!"

Canach grabbed his shoulder. "You're stronger than this, Caoilfhionn! Focus your mind! Reject the Dragon!"

Caoilfhionn's only answer was a tortured scream. His head was bursting, his vision swimming and fading to shadows, and he could feel his skin crawling and hardening. All he could see was the Dragon – not the newly summoned draconic champion stomping towards them, but the true Dragon, the spirit of darkness and hunger, ready to consume his soul.

"Listen to me!" Caithe cried, running to one of the glowing pools that marked a hole in Mordremoth's mind. "There's another tear here, in the mindscape. Come close. I can help you."

"Braham, distract that thing for a minute!" Canach shouted, putting Caoilfhionn's arm over his shoulder and half-dragging him towards the rift, though Caoilfhionn felt himself struggling, dazed.

"Got it," Braham said, charging towards the huge, bipedal, ogre-like manifestation of the Dragon. "C'mere, ugly! Payback's only just started!" It swung a huge fist at him and he grunted as he caught it on his shield, getting driven back a pace, then gave it a crack with his mace.

Canach got him to the rift and dumped him headfirst into it as Caithe channeled its energy. With one more scream, Caoilfhionn felt the pressure of the dragon recede from his mind and body. "I... I think it worked. My head is clear again."

"Good," Canach said. "Glad we could return the favour. Now let's kill that thing."

Mordremoth summoned other illusions to attack them – Rytlock, Marjory, Damara... even Sieran, who had been dead for years. How insidious! But every time they opened a rift and defeated another illusion, the illusion joined their side.

And then he sensed an enemy from behind and whirled with a slash, to find himself facing... Trahearne. "This won't end well... for you."

"Trahearne!" He should have expected it, and yet he could not help his body freezing up. He could not lift his hand against his beloved...

But this wasn't his beloved, only an image of him, and he remembered it as the doppelganger swung his sceptre; Caoilfhionn ducked and slashed, rippling a wave of fire over his attacker, buying himself enough time to look around for the inevitable rift. But it hadn't manifested yet, so for the moment, he had to fight the one person he would never be able to fight in the real world. And Blighted Trahearne was just as good as the real one. Caoilfhionn ducked and wove, elemental magic sparking off of death magic, love and defiance flowing through him like a river.

He clenched his teeth as he dodged nimbly, twisting around spells and slashing his own back in return. How _dare_ he!? How dare Mordremoth use the Sylvari – how _dare_ he take Trahearne and twist even his image into a being of hatred and destruction!? And outside the real Trahearne suffered, fighting corruption with all his beautiful strength and will, struggling to remain _himself_ just for a few minutes longer – how _dare_ the Dragon!?

"I've got it!" cried Caithe, reaching into the rift that had formed by now. "Hold on, Caoilfhionn!"

Abruptly, Blighted Trahearne was yanked away from him, tugged into the rift – and with a flash, more vines fell from the mindscape as it unraveled just a bit more around the edges, and Trahearne's illusion lay there, unBlighted and with determination in his eyes. Caoilfhionn reached out and gave him a hand up.

Trahearne gave him a firm nod. "This is it, beloved."

"I'm with you, beloved," Caoilfhionn answered. "Time to end this." He turned back to Mordremoth's physical avatar, currently engaged in beating back Canach and the illusory Rytlock with its mighty arms. " _Mordremoth!_ "

" _I am power itself,_ " Mordremoth answered. " _I am life itself. To deny me is to embrace oblivion._ "

"Then I embrace it!" Caoilfhionn cried, defiance igniting to an inferno within him, protective rage surging through his sap. "I know dragons are supposed to be above us mortals... never knowing our small concerns... our cares, our joys... so old and powerful that any concept of mortality has ceased to matter. Well, if you want to take my love from me so badly, take it! Take it all, take my love, my joy, my hatred, my rage! May you know what it means to be a mortal! May you suffer every drop of anguish we have suffered before you draw your last breath at my hand! Come find what it means to give your life for everything you held dear!" With tears in his eyes, Fire blazed around him, and he charged.

Mordremoth growled, focusing upon him yet again, yet Caoilfhionn barely slowed, blasting through the interference with a guttural yell, throwing himself at the Dragon's avatar, scorching it, overshooting and whirling to attack again from another angle. The world blurred before him, from tears, rage, and the Dragon's call, yet he powered through, striking at the largest target – the Dragon.

The Dragon's fist struck him full on and he was smashed to the ground with a cry of pain. The Dragon reached back to punch again, and Braham jumped in front. "Nope! Denied!"

And Trahearne and Canach were dragging him to his feet as Braham caught the blow upon his shield. "Up you come," Trahearne said. "Once more. Well done!"

Caoilfhionn was past listening even to Trahearne's voice, filled only with greater fury, his flames burning yet brighter. Magic surged through him, amplified by his feelings, on the verge of losing control and yet at the very pinnacle of his ability – every ounce of his power perfectly directed into destroying this being of destruction. Twice, thrice, and again, he charged and slashed, making the Dragon stumble and falter. With every strike, his focus sharpened as he disrupted Mordremoth's control over him.

The Dragon's avatar reeled and stumbled, trying to shield itself from his rage, and Canach gave a cry of triumph. "It's stunned! Hit it with everything you've got!"

The ground was shaking as vines crumbled, as leystones shattered, the arena shrinking smaller and smaller around them at an increasing rate. Every one of them, Canach, Braham, Caithe, Caoilfhionn, and the freed illusions of Rytlock, Marjory, Damara, Sieran, and Trahearne, was giving their all. The Dragon screamed as their swords bit into it, stumbling back until it fell down, helpless before them.

Caoilfhionn held his sword high, blazing as a torch. "You've failed, Mordremoth. For the Pale Tree! For Tyria!" He leapt forward – jumped off the shield Canach held for him – and plunged his sword to the hilt in the Dragon's avatar's chest. Fire rippled out in a wave, incinerating the entire avatar.

" _What have you done!?_ " Mordremoth roared, its avatar crumbling, the entire arena crumbling, and they were falling, falling past the thorny vines that petered out into ashes, falling into a bright light...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want the good end, skip directly to [Chapter 44: The Strength to Fight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224605/chapters/67501910)!


	41. The Strength to Live: Tiachren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! The 'bad end' is here, with all the drama and suffering that entails. What, I cried myself to sleep for a week after I found out how HoT ends, I'm not gonna waste that emotion even if I'm going to fix it in the 'good end'! I may have gone too far in the future since I didn't even know how PoF ends when I wrote this but I couldn't let my poor boy be shattered forever. If you're not here for sadness, skip to [Chapter 44](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224605/chapters/67501910)! :)

41: The Strength to Live: Tiachren

He woke to find himself lying upon damp earthen ground, and sucked in a heaving gasp of air. How sweet it was, after such exertion! Even down here, where it smelled of decaying plant matter. He had truly pushed himself to the brink and it was good to wake and rest.

But Trahearne! He sat up, a little woozily as his sap took a moment to adjust its flow, and then pushed himself shakily to his feet.

Rytlock stomped over, sheathing his sword. "You did it! Two dragons down, four to go."

"We did it," he confirmed solemnly, a huge smile suffusing his face. "Mordremoth is dead."

"Truly dead," Canach said. "I can't hear its voice in my head. It's completely gone."

"And we Sylvari are still here, still... us," Caithe said in a low voice of wonder. "I wasn't sure..."

Caoilfhionn ran to Trahearne, saw with concern that his eyes still glowed red. "Are you all right? Are you badly hurt? Tell me what to do."

Trahearne took a deep breath, seeming just as weary as he. Well, with good reason. "Caoilfhionn... I... My sword... Caladbolg... Only its power can free me from this. Please, bring it here."

Damara was closest, and she had to tug strenuously to free it from the vine it was buried in, and brought to them.

Trahearne took another breath, pain creeping back into his face. "Quickly, now: use it... on me. Kill me, Caoilfhionn."

" _NO!_ " Caoilfhionn's cry rang through the tunnel. "Mordremoth is dead! We destroyed its mind! I will not-" He choked. He'd lost his brother and his friend – and many more besides – he could _not_ lose his beloved as well. Not after all he'd fought. He flung himself at Trahearne, impacting hard into his chest, his face buried in his neck, and felt Trahearne gasp and clench his teeth.

Slowly, his arms closed about Caoilfhionn, returning the embrace. "But _I_ still hear its voice. Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige... a terrible seed planted deep in my mind. You _must_ kill me, Caoilfhionn. Before that seed grows... before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost."

Caoilfhionn shook his head, tears already running down, wetting Trahearne's neck. With horrified despair he realized his Wyld Hunt called him still. His task was unfinished. "No. _No_. Please, no. I... I can't. Please... Trahearne!"

"If you cannot, then let one of the others do it," Trahearne said gently. "It must be done. Caoilfhionn..." And Caoilfhionn pulled back enough to look at him, into that face so beautiful though half-frozen into wood, into those eyes so gentle even through the corruption that made them glow red. " _Fear not this night-_ "

" _NO_." Caoilfhionn sobbed, clutching harder at him. "That's not fair. You can't-"

"... _you will not go astray._ " Trahearne was running out of air, his voice weakening and breathy, fading and wilting before his eyes. " _And you... will always be strong..._ "

Caoilfhionn shook his head, tears pouring. "Not without you. I... I can't go on without you. The dawn can't exist without the dusk."

"You can, beloved – my love – I love you. And you must. Please. Quickly. I can't hold on any..."

There was a rumble, and Trahearne's whole face changed, and a shadow rose behind him – a shadow with malevolent yellow eyes, and a blast of magic knocked them all back a pace, even Caoilfhionn. Trahearne thrashed, and from his mouth came horrible words. " _I am the future. I am this world. You cannot destroy me. Run while you can._ "

Everyone yelled, with anger and fear. "What do we do!?" Damara cried. "Do you want me to-"

"I'll do it-" Rytlock said.

"No!" Caoilfhionn said. "Give- give it to me!" No one else but he could do this – he would wish if their places were reversed that it be like that. He could not see through his tears, reaching out blindly, and Damara pressed the long hilt into his hand. "Trahearne – I – I love you – forever!" He stabbed forward, and the broken shards pierced Trahearne's body right through.

And he let go, reaching up to Trahearne's face, pulling him down for one last kiss, deep and passionate and wet with tears.

After a moment, Trahearne's arms closed once more about him, and his love sighed into his mouth.

Blue light shone from the wound – Trahearne gasped against him in agony – and then he dissolved into magic, floating away in blue sparkles from Caoilfhionn's empty arms. The Dragon's spirit was gone. His Wyld Hunt fell silent.

Caoilfhionn stared blankly.

He screamed. He screamed a terrible scream of loss and heartbreak, so loud the others flinched away, and his throat burned and he tasted sap. Then he knew no more.

* * *

He woke. How much later, he could not say. His throat was agony but it was nothing compared to his soul. He could sense by motion and scent and sound that he was on a ship. Eithne was slumped over the side of his cot, her head pillowed upon her arms, fast asleep.

Annhilda bent over him. "You're awake." Her voice was soft, trying not to wake Eithne.

He looked at her, but could not answer.

She made a sympathetic face, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

He turned away.

"Caithe picked up his ring," Annhilda said. "It's on your finger next to yours. Forgive the liberty, but we didn't want it to get lost."

His eyes burned.

"We're going by ship to the Grove," Annhilda said. "We made it to the coast and got a fleet from Rata Sum to pick us up. We already stopped by there, to let the Asura off, but I figured you'd need to be home as soon as you can. Your sister Eithne hasn't left your side."

He lay still. He didn't really care. There was no reason anymore.

She patted his shoulder one more time and withdrew. "Rest. We're here for you."

* * *

He was strong enough to walk when they docked at the Grove, and he walked calmly and steadily forwards. He ignored Caithe and Eithne – ignored Cathaoir and Blathnat – he kept moving forwards until he stood in the Omphalos Grove before the Pale Tree.

She was looking better, and it was good to see her as she truly was, for the last time he had 'seen' her was as a Blighted illusion in Mordremoth's mind. She bent to him with grief of her own to meet his. "Oh, my son. Come here."

" _I couldn't save him. I failed. I'm sorry._ "

He fell forward into her arms, weeping into her petal skirts. She held him gently. "You did not fail. I know your pain, dear one. You are not alone." And he was not, he could feel her comforting presence all around him. "Your poor voice... I fear it is gone forever. I cannot mend that tear."

It didn't matter to him. He didn't need it anymore. He didn't need life anymore. Why did he yet breathe? The rest of him was already dead with his love.

"Oh, my child. I know you have nothing but despair right now. All I can offer you is rest. Come. Rest in my branches." There was a soft sound from behind him, and he turned to see an empty seedpod waiting. Within... yes. He could sleep a long, dreamless, Dreamless sleep, forget the world for a time... forget he existed for a time...

He shed his clothes – there was no need for them in a seedpod – except for the rings, and climbed in, letting himself curl as a newborn into the enveloping, comforting nothingness of sleep.

* * *

It was a long time later that he stirred again, that he became aware of sound and touch. The seedpod peeled open as he lifted his head from his knees, and he looked out to see the upper branches of the Pale Tree. He took a deep breath and sat up, pulling himself up and out. He had nothing to live for – but he might as well see what was going on.

His eyes met Tiachren's, and the other knight gave him a grave nod. "Welcome back, Caoilfhionn."

He nodded in greeting, but still could not say words.

Tiachren gave him a hand in getting out of the pod. "I came when I heard. I have been waiting for you. And many others wait for you, too... but I am the one granted this honour."

" _I am glad to see you_ ," Caoilfhionn signed. Sign language was one thing Sylvari picked up from the Dream, along with spoken language, but it was far less common to need. But he needed it now.

Tiachren gave him a soft, sad smile. "We have sadly much in common." He embraced him, and Caoilfhionn leaned on him, finding comfort in his touch, from this man who knew exactly what it was he experienced, what he had lost.

He pulled back to sign again. " _How long has it been?_ " He could not tell how much time had passed since he had killed... Mordremoth. The Grove looked the same as it always did, sounded the same, smelled the same. The sun was passing through the afternoon.

"Nine months, more or less. Events have been moving in the world, though perhaps I am not the best one to tell you of them. Your guild friends have split up to pursue separate quests, the human god Balthazar has risen, and Canach is free from his sentence."

Caoilfhionn nodded. It was good to hear Canach was doing well, at least.

"Was the time healing?" Tiachren asked softly. "I know no time can be enough, but physically, you are healed, but for your voice?"

" _I was not badly injured when I returned,_ " Caoilfhionn told him. " _I destroyed my own voice, but all else is well._ " Even his leaves had grown back, the way they used to be, more or less. He paused, then asked slowly: " _How... do you... continue...?_ "

"One day, even one hour at a time," Tiachren said, looking into the distance, his own pain in his eyes. "Not a day goes by that I not think about Ysvelta. I know I am not alone. Mother loves us all. But I wish... for her... next to me, that I may hold her and protect her as I failed to do. Always."

Caoilfhionn swallowed hard. " _But then why live at all?_ "

"'Tis a question I ask still too often. There is naught I can say that does not sound trite and hollow. I struggle. You will struggle, as much as I, for your temperament, your love is like mine. But... take hope in that, too, for I have won so far, and you may too. We must press on through the grief. We do not know what else our destiny holds."

Amaranda the Lonesome's words came to him. " _You will know great sorrow... and great victory_." " _A more glorious vision I could not ask for. I will accept both this great sorrow, and this great victory._ " " _You do not know..._ " He hadn't known. No victory was worth this sorrow. The only thing that kept him standing was the thought that if he had not acted, then everyone in Tyria would have died. He had sacrificed his lover and his light for everyone else's safety and happiness.

And that, in the end, by cold logic, was worth it. If only he had died too! He should have slain himself with the shards of Caladbolg while they were still slick with Trahearne's sap, and be with him in the Mists, and then he could have been truly happy, to have saved everyone and still be with his love-

But he was not. He had not. And while he had no reason or will to live and fight, he could not simply leave of his own accord. Such was Tiachren's lesson to him.

He took a deep breath and straightened. " _Did my sister leave me clothes?_ "

Tiachren gave him a sympathetic smile, no doubt sensing the feelings passing through him. "Yes, they are below. Do you want to see her, or shall I fetch them for you?"

" _I will see her... later. Only clothes, for now._ "

"Of course. Follow me."

* * *

He adjusted slowly to active life, staying away from everyone but his closest siblings. It was hard for him to spend time with others, when every moment and sensation reminded him his love was gone, and those who did not understand were intrusive and indelicate with their words and attentions, even when they tried to be; awkward, as most Sylvari were in their ignorance. They saw his grief as beautiful, he guessed – the last remnants of a love that had been famed throughout the Sylvari, as Tiachren and Ysvelta had been, for its purity, constancy, and passion. It was so like his people to romanticize it, and he could not blame them, for he had done the same before he knew what it was.

And they had lost Ruadhan, too, he and his close siblings. The Briar Baronet, they'd called him laughingly for his leaves and not his personality, he had been the most cheerful fellow, the most teasing of all of them, always ready to help. Bereft of him, they were weakened together, and Caoilfhionn could not find his heart for the wounds in it.

Tiachren became very close to him, and they went about everywhere together, so much so that he heard it whispered that they had found love again in each other. But it was not so; only that they were so close in age and circumstance, and both waiting for the day they would see their own lovers again. They held hands often, they embraced more than most, but Tiachren was not Trahearne, and Caoilfhionn was not Ysvelta, and if everyone else misinterpreted it, that was not his affair.

Caithe was another who understood, in a different way. "I cannot tell if I am more grieved or glad that I was not present for Faolain's last living moments. But she brought it upon herself."

" _We could not stop her... and we failed you, when we did not look for her body_."

"You could not know what Mordremoth would do with her. I do not blame you. I blame myself, as I always have."

" _And now that she is gone?_ "

She glanced at him, seeing that he only sought guidance. "I am... glad it is over. As he said: I am free. While she lived, I was a prisoner of a futile hope. I had been mourning her for twenty-six years already. Now I can turn my hope towards better things. Like Aurene."

" _How can you have hope when it was so cruelly crushed?_ "

"Our Dreams inspire us, Caoilfhionn. We must never give up hope, or we give up on the Dream itself." His own words, said to her as she doubted Destiny's Edge, as she doubted in Tyria's unity against the Dragons.

He turned away. He had believed those words once, with all his heart, trying to bring her to believe them too. Now... they were still true, but truth could not penetrate his heart, not now. He had not left the Dream... but he no longer felt in tune with it. He was a dull, dissonant note in it, no matter how the others romanticized it. And hope... hope was not his to hold anymore. Might never be again. His bright, innocent youth was over, and now he was old.


	42. The Strength to Live: Caladbolg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caoilfhionn's catharsis gets soundtracked to [Petrichor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6WaRLyxxbE) by The Rise Undaunted and also to [Answer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bRWQckbQ9tQ) by Bump of Chicken.

42: The Strength to Live: Caladbolg

It was some months later that he rejoined his friends, who had reformed the guild to include Rytlock and named it Dragon's Watch. Time passed on, quests came and went, threats arose and were defeated, and he fought beside them, for they still had need of his strength. And he was stronger than ever, with Malyck's sword at his side, and honing the theory that he'd proposed to Wegaff once upon a time that one could weave two elements together without tearing the spellcaster apart. His muteness did not give him much trouble, actually, once his friends became comfortable with reading his signs – and over distances he knew how to get whatever attention he needed with spells.

But he could no longer smile. Through the Crystal Desert, to the ends of Elona, his face felt like a mask, unchanging and serious, and he knew there was no light in his eyes. He knew – he _knew_ – Trahearne would have wanted him to find happiness in the world still, not to deprive the world of the light and hope that had drawn Trahearne to fall in love with him in the first place. But it was all gone. All he had left was his sorrow and heartbreak and his valour in battle.

He was patient with the others, as much as he could, as they offered clumsy sympathy and tip-toed well-meaningly around him. They were watching him closely, concerned he might try to take his own life. It didn't matter. That was not his plan, not at the moment, at least. Perhaps he was only going through the motions of living, but while they needed him, he would not abandon them. He could still find his mood lifted by innocence and kindness, and he could not smile, and his eyes could not shine, and that was all.

Well, not quite all. He got along with Canach worse than ever. He could not stand the older Sylvari's dry flippancy, and no longer cared to be polite in his disapproval. He could work with him when he had to, but he did not like it. They had more than one one-sided shouting/gesticulating match during their time in Elona, and the sooner they parted ways, the better for both of them.

After Balthazar was defeated, after Taimi was saved, during a breather in the quest to subdue Joko and Kralkatorrik, he returned to the Grove and found a statue had been shaped in Trahearne's honour. It was huge, and shaped of smooth brown wood, and had been there long enough to grow some moss already – though in the Maguuma Jungle, that was a few weeks at best. He looked at it a long time. It had been... a year and a half, though he'd been asleep for much of it, and while it hurt to look upon a likeness of his face, he could bear it now. Even if it was... It showed Trahearne as the noble knight he had been, generous and kind to all people, hand outstretched in welcome, but it was idealized. The statue wasn't of the Trahearne he had called his own. That was all right. The statue was for everyone else.

He heard himself hailed, and turned to see Valiant Ridhais, who had been in Trahearne's personal guard in the Pact, approaching him hurriedly. "Valiant Caoilfhionn! I have been trying to find you for some time."

" _My apologies... I have been elsewhere._ " He ought to be in Elona with Wegaff, helping him learn how the flow of magic had been altered by everything that had happened - but it was time for a visit home, too. He'd be back soon enough.

"I know. I..." She looked up at the statue. "I wish I could have been there. To help protect him. I thought that was my Wyld Hunt for a long time. And I am sorry for your loss. No one can ever replace him."

He nodded. " _I miss him every day. But what did you want me for?_ "

"I wish to speak with you about Caladbolg."

He started. Caladbolg's shattered remains had been left in his care, but he had laid it in a corner of his hut in the Grove and not touched it since he went to Elona. " _I have it. It is broken._ "

"The Pale Tree's thorn may be broken, but I believe that it is not easily slain. May I see it?"

He beckoned her to follow him and led her to his home, wondering what choice presented itself here. If she knew a way to restore it, then it could go to a new champion – which would definitely not be him. He could not hold it again, nor did he think himself right, not with his soul lying in more pieces than Caladbolg itself.

She laid her hands on it and her face lightened. "Though it is wounded, life remains, thank the Pale Tree. Caladbolg is dormant now, like a seed in the winter waiting the coming of spring. It must bond with a new wielder."

" _As I thought. Who might we seek out? We should ask Mother._ " Perhaps Niamh, as a Firstborn and the head of the Wardens...

"There is no need," Ridhais said, and pointed at him. "Just as Caladbolg enhances its wielder, the blade is empowered by the bearer. You must attune yourself to the blade to awaken it from slumber."

" _No._ " He shook his head, signing the word several times. " _I cannot touch it again. Why would you even suggest I take it up?_ "

She hesitated, and her eyes slid away from him. "As the... final wielder of Caladbolg before it became dormant, I believe you are already connected to the sword."

Pain washed over him full-force at the reminder and he turned away, clenching his fists. But that brought his gaze upon the sword.

He didn't hate the sword. It was a gift of the Pale Tree. It was a shining force for good, intended to strike down evil. It should be restored. But that _he_ be the one to wield it...

"And perhaps..." Ridhais said slowly and softly, "it will help to restore you as well."

He reached for the hilt with gritted teeth, and was still unprepared for the sensations that crashed into him. He still remembered with agonizing clarity exactly what it had felt like to drive the blade home through the body of the man he loved. Still remembered Trahearne's arms fall weakly around him, his mouth against his, before dissolving into magic. He shuddered, but held the blade firm.

And then put it down again so he could sign. " _It should be restored. If there is no other choice, I will take this on._ " Wegaff would have to figure it out without him

She nodded. "We must commune with Caladbolg's Dream. I will find a vision crystal, that we may do so. I believe our first step will be to visit Riannoc's grave. As its first wielder, he must have left strong memories in the Dream. I will let you know when I have prepared, and then we can go at your discretion."

* * *

He had visited Riannoc's grave from time to time, but he did not know what to expect this time. Ridhais gave him the vision crystal, and he only focused upon it for a moment before he looked up – and saw a dark shadowy figure instead of Ridhais.

The figure gave a cry of defiance and charged at him, lifting Caladbolg high. Riannoc! Caoilfhionn jumped away, nearly tripping over the Risen that clawed out of the swamp, reaching for him.

"The warrior desired only be become a hero," said a voice, a beautiful voice, he could not tell from where. "'A hero is fearless,' the warrior thought, and abandoned all doubt. Magic sword in hand, he set out to slay evil. But even if he could not comprehend it, fear remained."

Was Caladbolg speaking to him? Explaining this dark vision? He had no time to think about it – Riannoc was as fearsome as he remembered from the vision in his youngest days, when he had first witnessed his final stand. But now both Riannoc and the undead were against him. Caoilfhionn slashed and twisted, putting his agility to the test, not daring to risk even the slightest touch of Caladbolg's bright magic. His sword and dagger carved burning swaths through the shadows, destroying the undead easily, dancing around the remnant of the warrior as the warrior pursued him. He could not stand toe-to-toe with Riannoc, not even now after fighting two Elder Dragons and a god. Would that the Firstborn had not died so young!

Fire burned the darkness away, and Riannoc stood there, unshadowed, looking around curiously. Caoilfhionn slowly lowered his sword as the other made no move to attack him, and looked down at the sword in his hands. "Caladbolg... I thought that with it in hand, I had no need for fear." Caoilfhionn came closer, and Riannoc smiled at him. "But without fear I could not understand my own allies, let alone become the hero I saw in my Dream. And so I lost the sword."

" _It was recovered_ ," Caoilfhionn signed, and Riannoc concentrated, unpracticed in reading signs.

"That's comforting, thank you, brother." Did he know he had died after? Was this the real Riannoc, or simply a memory of him? In the Dream, they might be one and the same, who could tell? "Then I take it that this, too, is another dream?"

" _Yes. I have to prove myself to heal Caladbolg._ "

Riannoc grinned. "Splendid! Then let us dispense with words, and I will test your resolve in the manner of heroes!"

He saluted Caoilfhionn with the heavy blade – Caoilfhionn saluted with his slim sabre – and immediately launched into a flurry of attacks. It was impossible not to respond to his youthful confidence and conviction, still pure, still bright with morning joy, taking fun in the challenge of fighting another skilled Valiant, with the wind rushing in their leaves and the sap flowing in their veins. He'd sparred with the others – with Annhilda, with Canach, with Damara, when there was a moment that they felt the need to sharpen their skills. But it had not been like this.

Could he prevail? Against the Firstborn first chosen to wield this blade? He blazed forward with lightning, and struck a nimble blow against Riannoc's raised guard. His sabre flickered, seeking gaps in his opponent's defense, but Riannoc was quick, though he was hard put to it – and grinning with delight. And then Caladbolg swung and Caoilfhionn had to hop back in a hurry, away from those blasts of magic that would utterly wreck him otherwise.

He slid forward yet again, this time on a surge of Fire, and slipped past Riannoc's guard. Riannoc stumbled, taking the hit full on, falling to one knee. As Riannoc put up a hand, Caoilfhionn stepped back, letting him rise. Riannoc laughed. "A magnificent bout. I acknowledge your strength, hero. May Caladbolg protect you as it protected me, and may you protect it in return."

Caoilfhionn bowed to him. " _Thank you_."

* * *

Ridhais took him next to the heart of the jungle, and this he... dreaded and yearned for. He nearly put it off, but he would not be held a coward of his own love. Even if he felt completely ill of anticipation... and fear of the wounds it would re-open.

"Firstborn Trahearne was a living legend," Ridhais said when they had come to a great piece of wreckage torn from the _Glory of Tyria_. "It was always an honour to serve at his side."

He shook his head. Trahearne was not a legend. That consigned him to history, to make more of him than he was, to place more weight upon him than a mortal could bear. The dead could bear it, but he wanted to hold on to the bittersweet realities, not glorious fictions. He had been perfect, and fallible, at the same time. " _Why is Caladbolg drawn here?_ " he asked. This was not where he had found it, in the heart of Mordremoth's lair.

"Caladbolg does not see the world as we do," Ridhais said. "It could be that its last battle was here before being broken, or perhaps Trahearne had a strong memory here."

He could only imagine. " _I will have to fight him, won't I._ "

"He was a formidable necromancer even before being granted Caladbolg. You're braver than I."

He stepped forwards and focused on the vision crystal.

There he was; even cloaked in shadow that tall figure would be recognizable to him anywhere. Small minions bounded forward from his gesture, but he did not charge into battle the way Riannoc had done. That was not Trahearne's way, no, but to watch and observe before unleashing a massive precision strike upon his opponents.

"The scholar dreamt of a land reclaimed from the Dragon's touch," Caladbolg whispered sweetly. "'I must learn how to fight it,' the scholar thought, and sought knowledge. But all the scholar found was despair at the impossible task. Perhaps from the beginning, it was indeed simply a dream."

He remembered Trahearne's quiet weariness from when they had first met, how he had carefully confided in Caoilfhionn – and fully expected him to reject him like the others had. That rejection had been what held Trahearne back, and when he'd raised his head and cast aside their expectations, Caladbolg had come to him.

Yet this Trahearne, this shadow, was fighting for his life, his great strength rampaging with desperation as he tried to strike at Caoilfhionn. It was terrifying, to face such power, to fight his beloved who did not recognize him. He dashed forwards, and Trahearne retreated, flinging out a wave of energy. Caoilfhionn was struck and fell, catching his breath at the pain, and then gasping again as the minions leapt upon him, clawing at him. He slashed them away, rolling to the side to dodge another strike, then zapped himself forward with Air, faster than Trahearne could retreat. But Trahearne took the hit, staggered, and then knocked him away and retreated again.

He would release him from this pain, and chased after him again, buffeted back by Trahearne's ferocious defense yet never giving up. He was driven back, again and again, bruised and aching from blocking Caladbolg's strikes and falling on his back, only barely twisting out of the way of Trahearne's follow-up attacks – but he never fell back, getting up again and again, darting in close... and knocking Caladbolg aside, his own sword crashing down with sparks of Air.

Another blow, and Trahearne stumbled back, falling down. Caoilfhionn opened his mouth to cry out, but all that came was a hoarse whistle of air with syllables in it, and it hurt him.

Trahearne picked himself up, shadows falling from him, and looked around, taking in the no-longer burning airships, the lack of Pact and Mordrem, then looked at Caoilfhionn in slight perplexity. "This isn't quite the battlefield I last remember. I'm glad you made it, though."

Caoilfhionn dropped his weapons and hurled himself at him – oh! To be wrapped in those arms once again! To hold him and breathe in his scent once again! He was sobbing, blinded by tears, unable to tell if he were almost happy or even more heartbroken – for this was only a vision. Memory, spirit, or Dream, this was... a final farewell.

Trahearne caressed his leaves. "There, there, my prince. My Orchid Prince. I feel the grief in you... what happened? What of the Pact? Of Mordremoth?"

Caoilfhionn had to pull back to sign, and did not miss the look on Trahearne's face that he could not speak. At the sight of both rings on his finger. _"We're in the Dream, Caladbolg's Dream. Mordremoth was... defeated, by my hand and yours. You..._ " He could not go on, his hands shaking. " _Mordremoth tried to take you. I... I had to kill you. You told me to – begged me to. And I did, rather than let him win. I slew you with your own blade, and it stopped him._ " He buried his face back in Trahearne's chest.

Trahearne sighed around him, stroking his shoulders. "Thank the Pale Tree. I felt such a terrible fear, to see our kin in the thrall of that monster. To think that _you_ were in such danger. But I knew you were strong enough to see it through. And I am glad you were strong enough... to give me up."

He shook his head. How could Trahearne be so unshaken to learn of his own death!?

"If my life was the price to defeat Mordremoth," Trahearne said, soft and deep, "I pay it gladly. Don't ever forget that, Caoilfhionn, beloved."

He looked up into yellow eyes. He knew Trahearne had not flinched at sacrificing himself. He would have done exactly the same in his place. It had been the right thing to do, and had saved countless lives. But he was selfish. He had wanted to save everyone _including_ Trahearne. He had believed in it with every fiber of his being, right up until the last second. " _I wish it had been me. I cannot live without you. You are my world, my light, my everything. It hurts, still, every day. Because I love you. I love you. I love you._ " His signing was almost violent.

"I know," Trahearne said, his own eyes growing wet with tears. "But you are strong enough to. I... Caoilfhionn, I love you too, and I want you to live on. As long as you can, with as much happiness as you can muster. You were not made for grief, but for hope. I know it will be difficult, and it will never be the same, and wherever I am in the Mists, I must miss you too... but you cannot give up. Promise me."

His breath caught in a grieving hiccup. " _I... I promise_." He could not deny Trahearne anything, and not now.

"You already sacrificed me, but you must give me up a little more." For answer, Caoilfhionn clung to him. "You can hold on to me now, but when you leave this Dream, you _must_ make room for hope again, Caoilfhionn. You must smile again. Do not let yourself become hollow like an old tree." He made a wry smile. "You're only a fraction of my age – and who knows how old our people live? Think of everything you have yet to see – and I may not be there anymore to see it with you, but I want to hear about it afterwards!"

It was so hard – so incredibly hard – yet he managed to smile through his tears. Trahearne bent his head and kissed him, and he clung to him fiercely.

They parted, and Trahearne looked around again. "So... why are we in Caladbolg's Dream?"

" _Caladbolg was damaged in the battle with Mordremoth. To heal it... I need to... attune to it._ "

Trahearne's smile was proud. "I can think of none better to carry Caladbolg in my stead. Though, will that sentiment alone suffice? Will overcoming your feelings and forging a future of hope prove your worth to the blade?"

" _I think not. I sparred with Riannoc, before_."

"Ah, of course, yes. Well..." Trahearne tilted his head with a grin, letting go and stepping back. "It's been a long time since we had a friendly match, hasn't it? Shall we?"

Caoilfhionn exhaled on a tremulous smile and picked up his sword and dagger. _So be it_. He sprang forward.

Trahearne watched him come, eyes gleaming, stepping back at the last moment and letting Caoilfhionn's blade ring against Caladbolg. He raised his hand and a great flesh golem rose, charging Caoilfhionn, keeping him on his toes. Oh, he missed seeing that power displayed! Ah, he could not be distracted now, darting out of the way as Caladbolg clove the air where he'd been standing. He flicked Fire in return, Air swirling around him, determined to be impossible to hit.

He might have been a difficult target, but Trahearne's defense was impervious, preventing him from closing to melee range, and the flesh golems – three of them, now – were doggedly chasing him though they'd never catch him. He breathed with determination and plunged past them, dagger blinding them as his sword sought its goal.

Trahearne met him head-on, his dance heavier than Caoilfhionn's, but still nimble as he spun Caladbolg, power and energy surrounding him. Step for step, they dueled, Caoilfhionn spinning away to lay low one of the flesh golems and immediately diving back in. Trahearne was magnificent, powerful, indomitable, even more skilled in his confidence and gladness than he was in despair and shadow, and Caoilfhionn felt his strength pushing him back. Trahearne was not going easy on him, and he'd have it no other way. His smile came easier now, involuntary, though his breath caught painfully in his chest still. He wanted only to watch, to see his slender arms as they hefted the greatsword, to see how his lean body swayed with its weight, to see the wind blowing in his leaves. He wanted-

He failed to dodge and fell down from a bolt of energy, wincing more at Trahearne's cry of concern than his own pain. Yet he must not fail here, for Caladbolg's sake. He flowed to his feet, slid around a stab and slashed in return, meeting only Caladbolg's thorn, knocked back by bright energy, ducking under a flesh golem's claws. Trahearne was beaming, watching... pausing involuntarily.

He brought sword and dagger together and slammed them into Trahearne's guard with the weight of Earth, and Trahearne fell onto his back.

His love was panting with exertion, eyes shining, and accepted Caoilfhionn's hand up. "Your fighting has changed. You never used to fight with a sword."

Caoilfhionn sheathed his weapons. " _I bear it in memory of another friend lost to Mordremoth._ " Trahearne had known Malyck... but this wasn't the time for the full story.

"And that thing you're doing with the elements... You're even more brilliant than before. I confess to being quite distracted and perhaps not giving you the fight you should have had. But then again, you were distracted too, weren't you?"

If Trahearne had not been distracted by admiration, he would not have won that match. " _You inspire me, as always._ "

"Your heart may be bound by heavy chains, but your conviction on the battlefield has only grown. I'm so proud of you. You have done great things, and I know you will do more." Trahearne reached out and pulled him close, embracing him – one last time. "Try not to weep for me anymore, beloved. I am at peace with how it all turned out, and... I will see you again someday. Hopefully not too soon, but everyone goes to the Mists eventually, do they not? I will not say farewell, Caoilfhionn. This is not the end."

No, it was not the end. But it was the end for a long time, and so he held Trahearne close, eyes closed, breathing him in, determined to stay here as long as Caladbolg would let him. He felt Trahearne's lips brush against his and gave himself to the kiss completely, lost in this moment, this tiny bubble of happiness and peace granted him.

* * *

The last place Ridhais directed him to was Orr. Annhilda had said it much changed since he had last visited, but a verbal warning did not prepare him very well. It was beautiful. Sylvari and Asura, led by Dagonet, had been busy, bringing flora and fauna from the Tarnished Coast to repopulate the barren land, to take advantage of the purifying waters of the Source still working through the land. It was no longer barren at the coastline, grasses, ferns, ivies, broadleafed bushes, even small trees gallivanting up from the white sands to several hundred yards inland, enveloping any ruined villages that happened to be within their provenance, and every day brought forth new green to greet the bright sun and cooling rain. He even heard reports that young Oakheart spirits had been seen, the most telling sign of the ecosystem's healing.

A small, cynical voice within him asked why they could not have given Trahearne this support while he lived...

But it was amazing. It looked _exactly_ as Trahearne had described it to him once, his vision for an Orr free of draconic influence. He wandered, eyes wide, with Ridhais, Tiachren, and Cathaoir – for his older brother had been convinced to leave the Grove as part of this mission of rejuvenation – taking in everything he had last seen still stark and cold, with a faint smattering of lichens and seagrass its only adornment. The land was not exactly safe, for the Risen persisted still, but they were much less focused than before, shambling aimlessly until something interrupted them. Hardly a threat to give pause to the four of them.

" _I wish he could have seen this,_ " he found himself signing often, and the others nodded. He made sure to take it all in, as much as he could, so that when they met again in the Mists he could tell him everything.

And then they came to the Source itself. There was a small outpost at Melandru's Temple, now, and the Source was guarded by skilled warriors of the Pact, but the doors had been unsealed and opened, allowing the waters yet freer flow out, and visitors to venture within.

He went in, and found himself nearly in another world. His gasp was audible.

The water was cool around his feet. The wind from the upper windows brushed his face, bringing the scents of a thousand flowers, of wet moss, of fragrant trees, of so much _life_ it was overwhelming. And to see it, wild and thriving, every surface green and smiling with flowers, trees uplifting their leaves to the distant light, moss and ivy spilling from the windows, Caladbolg's vines climbing up the walls, overlaying the circular Orrian architecture with graceful busy growth. He could hear the hum of very small insects, saw small butterflies and moths fluttering around the flowers.

This was what his lover, the necromancer-scholar, had foreseen. This was what the study of death had wrought. He fell to his knees in the water, simply taking it all in.

He turned to Tiachren, embracing his knees with tears running down his face before pulling back to sign. " _Trahearne healed Orr with his touch. Without him I will never be whole again._ "

"I know," Tiachren said, and raised him and embraced him. "We are all broken, my brother. Even our Mother has been wounded to her heart as we have. Even Orr will never be whole. But life continues; though it hurts, there is beauty in it. Even without Ysvelta, I have come to see it."

Trahearne had told him to make room for hope in his life again. " _If that is true... then maybe I can go on a little longer... I can carry everything he was within me and sing him to the world that they still know him. I will keep walking forward for him._ " Though tears were still flowing, he smiled. He smiled, and it hurt, and he would not stop. He had promised Trahearne he would not give up. Now he was finally ready to try.

"As I do for Ysvelta. As we all do for those we love." He kissed Caoilfhionn's cheek, and Caoilfhionn returned it.

He turned to the pure spring, bubbling up so joyfully in the centre of the chamber, and saw a shadowy figure that looked like himself standing there. It was bent with grief still, and clutched at Caladbolg possessively. Yes, that was what he looked like inside, so pitiful, even pathetic. He should put him out of his misery.

"The hero sought to save the world," Caladbolg's voice rang low in his ears. "'If I keep trying, I'll be able to win,' the hero thought. But the harder the hero fought, the further the world seemed to tumble away. Drowning in doubt, the hero could not even save themselves."

The doppelganger swung Caladbolg at him, rushing to close the distance as Riannoc had, channeling the bright magic within the sword as Trahearne had. Now it was Caoilfhionn's turn to dodge away – he was one for melee combat, with his sword and his dagger, but he needed some space to react!

Energy was flowing through him with his love and pain, and he flowed around his doppelganger's strikes, his heart reaching out to him with every blow of his sword. Life was full of pain, and being left behind was pain, and pain clove to the soul, but love was beyond all that. Love had no pain in it, though pain had love in it, and love and pain twined together bittersweet was life in its fullest. His feelings overflowing, he met his double's next charge head-on, slipped around Caladbolg's stab to reach forward and strike him with Water.

The shadowy figure reeled, shadows pouring from it, leaving only a twin of himself, standing there smiling with tears, just as he was. It presented him with Caladbolg's hilt with a slight bow.

Caladbolg's voice whispered to him. "Hero, if you still believe in a brighter future, hold in your heart a thorn that can pierce all doubt."

He reached for the hilt slowly, wrapping his fingers around its warmth, taking it from his doppelganger. The sword began to sprout as he did so, tender buds and leaves twining in small loops away from the blade and hilt.

He held it up, just as sun began to fall through the greatest window in the ceiling, and it blazed with light as it had when he first held it, pale and golden, sparkling particles fluttering from it. He turned his face upwards, wet with tears, feeling the light caress his face. He couldn't stop smiling now that his mind was made up. His heart was free – ever chasing his love, but ready to fly free on this world while he lasted here. It still hurt, and it probably would always, but he could see past it now. He would live for Trahearne, and all his joys, his triumphs, would be for him, and then he would be happy too.

But Caladbolg... ah, it was not for him. He was glad to give enough of his spirit to it to bring them both back to life, but it must wait for another. He brought it down with a flourish, flipping it point downwards, and embedded it in the centre of the spring.

He turned and headed back towards his friends. He hugged Cathaoir first, and his brother enfolded him in a great bear-hug. "'Tis good to see you smile again, Caoilfhionn. The sun was dark for us too, while you did not. Any time you need, let us help you bring the sun out again, won't you?"

He was grateful for everyone's patience and encouragement, though he could not say so while locked in the hug as he was. At last Cathaoir let him go, and he could sign: " _I will try. Thank you for all you have done._ "

"I don't understand," Ridhais said as he turned to her. "You bonded with Caladbolg, and it is whole, so why...?"

He gazed at it, shining gently in the midst of the waters. " _I am not its bearer, even now. It must wait here and dream of a new wielder, and bear tribute to those who came before. The Pale Mother will know when it is ready._ "

"But the trials..."

" _The trials gave us both closure, with those we lost and with each other. But I am not its wielder. Please believe me._ " Certainly, were he to take up Caladbolg, they would make fine partners. But it was not his place. Someday one would come who fitted Caladbolg like hand to glove.

"All right," she said. "It is fitting. I will protest no more. My Wyld Hunt has been fulfilled."

He moved to Tiachren, and found him smiling wistfully, and smiled wistfully back. "Welcome back. He's proud of you."

" _And she is proud of you_ ," Caoilfhionn said. " _Thank you._ "


	43. The Strength to Live: Canach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We don't really know what happens to Sylvari when they die, so perhaps this is overstepping to write this far, but Caoilfhionn will always find happiness eventually.

43: The Strength to Live: Canach

It had been twenty-five years since Mordremoth's death. Caoilfhionn had continued his work as a Priory magister, largely as a field researcher, partly as a teacher, closely entwined with Dragon's Watch and the fate of the world – too many times, to ask Wegaff, now Steward Wegaff, one of the world's leading researchers of Dragon magic. His students seemed to like him, despite his impediment, and he was fond of them, too. He'd somehow gained a reputation for wisdom and patience that surprised him.

His life was... yes, it had become almost happy – satisfied, at least, contented with his friends, even Canach, his work, his planet. He had never returned to the bubbly butterfly he once was, but he could smile, and enjoy himself, and that was enough, wasn't it, while he waited? Occasionally, he met someone who disagreed, various admirers who sought to chase away the last vestiges of sadness in his eyes, but they were destined to be disappointed. He was sorry for them, but it wouldn't be fair to them when they could not be first in his heart. But he did meet some nice friends that way.

The semester ended, and five new Weavers who had been under his care were free to make their way in the world – and he was free to make a journey he'd been waiting to make for a long time. Wintersday had passed, and while the Priory was magically warmed from within, the Shiverpeaks were certainly living up to their name. He was glad to make it into Lion's Arch, where it was at least a bit warmer, if windy this time of year.

He travelled on, westward, through southern Kryta, the Maguuma, the Silverwastes. It was dangerous, but he was experienced and unafraid. Finally, he arrived at his destination: the great tree in the region known as Dragon's Stand. The place he had defeated Mordremoth. The place where Trahearne had died. It was well recovered by now, covered thickly over with normal jungle, the tree crumbling slowly as its wood rotted. The Dragon's physical body had rotted away long ago, even its wooden bones gnawed by water and insects.

He waded into the pool, sinking through to the hidden cavern below, traversing the tunnel to its end. He had not been back in all the years intervening, but he still remembered it, burned into his mind. He didn't mind so much now that he was here again.

At the end, he stopped. There was nothing here to show what had once been, not so much as a withered leaf. That was all right. He knew it had been here, twenty-five years ago to the day. He inhaled the damp air, exhaled peacefully, and reached for his dagger.

" _Caoilfhionn!_ " The angry shout made him jump. It was an anger borne of fear, and now that he'd heard it, he wasn't surprised at the shouter – but how had he followed him?

Canach stormed up, panting. "What... the _hells_... are you doing!?"

" _I'm going,_ " Caoilfhionn signed succinctly. " _I've waited long enough, haven't I?_ " The loneliness was more unbearable every year. Tiachren's lesson to him long ago had faded; Tiachren had been slain in battle a few years ago and was surely by now with his own beloved at last. All that he had was a threadbare promise that even his honour would consider breaking from the longing that overwhelmed him.

Canach glared at him with an odd mixture of rage and sorrow. "How selfish can you get? Blessed Source, it's good I was paying attention. What, are we not good enough for you?"

" _It's not that,_ " Caoilfhionn signed. They had gotten over their early antagonism years ago, and he deserved an open answer now that he was here. " _I miss him. I'm still lost and broken and you know it. I found hope for the world, not for me. I've only been waiting until I could tell him I'd lived as long as he did-_ "

Canach spluttered. "How _dare_ you!?" He poked Caoilfhionn viciously in the chest, jabbing him backwards. "Does our love mean so little to you!? No one can love you as he did, but does it mean nothing at all to you? Even after all this time?"

For the first time, he paused. " _I... But you will be fine without me-_ "

"Not the point, and _you_ know it," Canach said, and pulled him into a hug against his solid wooden armour, and now he could feel his true feelings – care, and concern, and warm brotherhood behind the hard anger and biting sarcasm. "We're all going to leave one by one anyway. Everyone dies eventually. We've both lost so many. Why rush things? You can't come back."

" _He can't come back..._ " But he was wavering... This was why he'd tried to get away alone.

"Are you afraid of forgetting?" Canach asked softly.

He shook his head, sinking into the hug, feeling his emotions spiral. He wasn't forgetting, but the time that he'd been truly happy had been so short, in his steadily lengthening life. After everything... he'd hoped to see him soon, and to be denied that hope, even by other love... He'd been strong for that hope...

Canach's compassion was warm around him. "Stay with us, sapling." Canach was the only one to still call him sapling, now, but he was... entitled to it. "We would miss you terribly."

He felt himself beginning to weep, as he hadn't in years, suddenly breaking down utterly in the arms of his friend and brother.

Canach sighed, pretending to be gruff. "As I expected. You always get emotional like this." But his arms tightened around him. "I'm sorry. ...Sorry we're so boring you can't stand to be with us any more."

There was a shake in his shoulders under his tears that might have been half a laugh. He'd come to appreciate Canach's sarcasm far more than in his younger days.

"I know it's been so long, with such a heavy burden," Canach said more gently. "And it may be much longer still. But we need you, sapling. You're not done yet. And if life isn't working out for you, come to us and let us help you find something that works. If you need to take a year off from the Priory and drink yourself into a stupor, so be it. I'll join you. If you need to spend time in the Grove and teach newborns how not to fall on their faces, we'll make it happen. If you want to take up breeding cats and take Divinity's Reach by storm with an army of fuzzy little arseholes, there are worse things you could be doing. ...Caoilfhionn. I know he's been waiting a long time. He can wait a little longer. You'll have eternity with him when you get there. And maybe by the end of eternity, you'll be sick of it."

He pulled back, smiling and crying. " _Never_."

"You say that now, but have you tried eternity? Anyway, no more trying to kill yourself dramatically on significant anniversaries, got it?"

" _Got it,_ " Caoilfhionn signed, and wiped his eyes. " _If you really can't do without me..._ "

"It's not negotiable. Let us help make the pain bearable, or don't, but you must bear with it until the world takes it from you. It won't be forever. I promise you're not a god."

" _I hope not_ ," Caoilfhionn said. " _All right. Let's go to Rata Novus and have a drink._ "

"That's my brother."

* * *

He lived many years longer, and his death was quiet and unclimactic when it finally happened. The important thing was he woke up in the Mists, and he knew it was the Mists, he'd been in their vast incomprehensibility before many times, though never this location. And yes... the finality of never returning to the Tyria that he loved was saddening, but...

For the first time in untold years, he smiled full and true, hope blossoming within his soul like it had not since he was the youngest of saplings. He was here. He was finally on the same plane as his love. And he did not know where he was, and the Mists were infinite, but it didn't matter. He had all the time in existence to find him. He laughed – and now he could laugh. He'd almost missed the sound of his own voice, and lifted it in song.

He did not know how long he wandered – years, decades, hours. It didn't matter. What mattered was how his sap burned within him with eagerness, like he was a sprout again. Every once in a while, he cried out his lover's name, and listened to it fade into the sky.

The Mist land he was in turned into a mountainous jungle, volcanic stones pillowed with moss and overgrown with great broad-leafed plants, misty and – smelling so familiar it brought tears to his eyes. Green, slightly bitter, warm, alive...

Something moved in the jungle ahead of him, and he looked, wondering if it would be friend or foe. He'd met some of both, on his wanderings.

Yellow eyes blinked owlishly at him. Firm lips parted in surprise. "Caoilfhionn?"

"Trahearne!" He ran, and Trahearne ran to him, and they collided in the tightest embrace possible. Caoilfhionn was weeping with joy, and Trahearne... maybe he was weeping too. "I'm here. I finally found you."

"You took your time," Trahearne teased him, and the way his voice rolled through Caoilfhionn's body, deep and dry and full of love, made him cling to him tighter. "Easy, my heart. You can't kill me here, but it feels like you're trying..."

"I missed you so much," Caoilfhionn whispered. "Every day I longed for you. But they would not let me go of my own accord."

"Good," Trahearne said. "I hoped you would not. I knew you would find it difficult, but you held on. I'm proud of you; so proud, Caoilfhionn. I love you so much. My beloved, my prince, my everything."

"I love you," Caoilfhionn said, and words seemed insufficient, so he leaned up and kissed Trahearne as if he would become part of him.


	44. The Strength to Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good end is here! Caoilfhionn's last fight is soundtracked to [This Game from No Game No Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRQbVNzmCK0)! Specifically, the Animenz piano arrangement! Which I learned to play this summer. Also we're starting to head towards the end of the fic? I've still got story arcs for the boys to go through but from this point on the game story started to interest me less so you'll see less of it. I'm still loving the areas in PoF, and exploring them, but the plot still hasn't quite grabbed me yet. It would help if I could figure out whether I'm shipping Damara with Faren or Canach... or both, one after the other... and if Faren had more screen-time to make that sort of feasible. But anyway.
> 
> Btw, I'm not having Trahearne be giant-sized in this story. I've seen some really nice art of ['Trahearne post-HoT'](https://www.deviantart.com/m-hourglass/art/GW2-Trahearne-and-Canach-672869527) with the same body that he had at the climax, all gigantic and half-corrupted and stuff, and I really like that idea, but I'm going a different route.

44: The Strength to Fight

He woke to find himself lying upon damp earthen ground, and sucked in a heaving gasp of air. How sweet it was, after such exertion! Even down here, where it smelled of decaying plant matter. He had truly pushed himself to the brink and it was good to wake and rest.

But Trahearne! He sat up, a little woozily as his sap took a moment to adjust its flow, and then pushed himself shakily to his feet.

Rytlock stomped over, sheathing his sword. "You did it! Two dragons down, four to go."

"We did it," he confirmed solemnly, a huge smile suffusing his face. "Mordremoth is dead."

"Truly dead," Canach said. "I can't hear its voice in my head. It's completely gone."

"And we Sylvari are still here, still... us," Caithe said in a low voice of wonder. "I wasn't sure..."

Caoilfhionn ran to Trahearne, saw with concern that his eyes still glowed red. "Are you all right? Are you badly hurt? Tell me what to do."

Trahearne took a deep breath, seeming just as weary as he. Well, with good reason. "Caoilfhionn... I... My sword... Caladbolg... Only its power can free me from this. Please, bring it here."

Damara was closest, and she had to tug strenuously to free it from the vine it was buried in, and brought to them.

Trahearne took another breath, pain creeping back into his face. "Quickly, now: use it... on me. Kill me, Caoilfhionn."

" _NO!_ " Caoilfhionn's cry rang through the tunnel. "Mordremoth is dead! We destroyed its mind! I will not-" He choked. He'd lost his brother and his friend – and many more besides – he could _not_ lose his beloved as well. Not after all he'd fought. He flung himself at Trahearne, impacting hard into his chest, his face buried in his neck, and felt Trahearne gasp and clench his teeth.

Slowly, his arms closed about Caoilfhionn, returning the embrace. "But _I_ still hear its voice. Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige... a terrible seed planted deep in my mind. You _must_ kill me, Caoilfhionn. Before that seed grows... before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost."

His Wyld Hunt was still ringing in the back of his mind. He took a step back, his eyes blazing with determination, putting his hands on Trahearne's shoulders. He was exhausted, yet he would burn himself to the core before he gave up. "No. I _will_ find another way. I _will_ save you."

"Caoilfhionn-" Trahearne's eyes were tragic.

"Wishful thinking," Rytlock muttered.

He cut over both of them with a firm kiss on Trahearne's mouth, then drew his dagger and began to cut Trahearne out of the pod thing that held him from the waist down.

Everyone yelled. "What are you doing!? Wait! Stop!"

Caoilfhionn locked eyes with Trahearne. "I trust you. I love you. You can fight him. We'll get you to safety and I will purge him from the world."

Trahearne was shuddering for air, his control fracturing before his eyes, stumbling forward onto the ground, reaching out to Caoilfhionn for support. "Caoilfhionn- this is a mistake- Don't do this-!"

"Believe in me. Believe in me as you've never done before. I swear-"

There was a rumble, and Trahearne's whole face changed, and a shadow rose behind him – a shadow with malevolent yellow eyes, and a blast of magic knocked them all back a pace, even Caoilfhionn. Trahearne thrashed, and from his mouth came horrible words. " _I am the future. I am this world. You cannot destroy me. Run while you can._ "

"I'm not running," Caoilfhionn said quietly, sheathing his dagger and holding out his arms. "Give me my love and begone!" The others were moving forward. "Stay back! If I die, do as you please, but until then, _stay back and do not harm him!_ "

Mordremoth laughed with Trahearne's mouth and pounced upon him, knocking him down onto his back, straddling him and pinning him down. " _Little fool! Die in futile hope, then! There is nothing left of him. He is mine!_ " He struck Caoilfhionn, Trahearne's fingers lengthened into claws, tearing through his clothes and flesh. Caoilfhionn screamed, writhing – he was brave, he would endure this, but his body could not help but react to the pain. Mordremoth ripped at his chest and back, slashed through his left eye, reached down and bit at his throat like a beast.

He heard the others crying out, heard them try to run forwards to try and save him, but Mordremoth swung a hand and they were knocked back.

He mustered some control through the agony, gritting his teeth against the sobs of pain, resting his hands on Trahearne's knees and managing to smile up at him with only one eye. "Ah, Mordremoth, how pitiful you are. If there is nothing left of him, why is he crying?" For tears were flowing down from those glowing red eyes, and he looked miserable, even the part that was frozen in wooden armour. "Shhh, it's all right, my beloved. I know you're tired, that you're beyond the last of your strength. Just fight him a little longer. For me?" He could feel the sap draining from his body. He didn't have long.

" _Your death will seal both your fates!_ " cried Mordremoth, and raised one arm high, claws poised to smash through his chest – and he paused. Caoilfhionn watched, not without bracing himself. Trahearne reached up and seized his right arm, fighting once more for control, pulling at it – and suddenly, with a terrible cry, wrenched it free. Sap sprayed over Caoilfhionn, and Trahearne slumped to one side, collapsing to the ground unconscious.

"Trahearne!" He wheezed, trying to sit up, but he was too wounded, he couldn't- Marjory ran to him, channeling healing power into him. "Thank you. Him, too!"

"Mordremoth isn't dead," Canach said, sounding alarmed and angry. "You've kept it alive. Trahearne's weakened it by weakening his own body, but he can't control it alone."

"He won't be alone any longer," Caoilfhionn said. "Heal him! Give me Caladbolg, I must..." He swayed as Damara helped him to his feet. The worst of the sap loss had stopped but he was still so weak... and tired...

"You're not going anywhere," Braham said. "You shouldn't be standing!"

"Don't worry about me," Caoilfhionn said fiercely. "I'll go wherever I have to. All that matters to me is saving Trahearne. Watch him, restrain him, but _don't kill him_. I'll be back. I swear it."

He took Caladbolg, and its broken strength was enough to let him reach out... to the Grove... He appeared in its warm greenery and sprinted for the Omphalos Chamber. Many cried out at his sudden, ragged, sap-covered appearance, but that didn't matter. The Wardens tried to stop him. "What are you doing, Caoilfhionn? The Pale Tree isn't well enough to be interrupted- what happened to you?"

"It's life or death!" Caoilfhionn cried, holding up Caladbolg's remains. "Please, let me by, or Trahearne will die!" He didn't know how long he had, how long Trahearne could keep Mordremoth locked inside his unconscious mind.

They looked at each other, then nodded and stepped aside. He entered the lift, panting impatiently, trying not to pass out again... and then the green mossy carpet of the Omphalos Chamber was before him. He was barely aware of crossing it, half-collapsing in kneeling before the Pale Tree. "Mother-! I-! Trahearne-!"

"Breathe, Caoilfhionn," said the Pale Tree, who was only just sitting up herself. "What has happened? You found Trahearne? Oh, your poor body... Your eye..."

"Never mind me," Caoilfhionn said, though he felt the Pale Tree touch his head and cure some of his hurts. "Thank you, Mother. But Trahearne – the Dragon has taken him – we defeated the Dragon in its own mind, but now it is in Trahearne's and if I don't save him he will _die_ -"

"Can he be saved?" asked the Pale Tree sadly. "If the Dragon has taken him, then..."

"I cannot believe it's impossible!" Caoilfhionn burst out. "Mother- only give me a chance! Put me in the Dream! I beg you – I know you are not well, but only give me the chance to save him and I will never ask aught else of you again! Please... you are my only hope!"

She was moved by his tears, he could tell, and with Aine and Serimon helping her avatar, she stood, and placed her hands upon his head. "Then go to him, my son. Save your heart – and all our people."

* * *

He woke in darkness, thick cloying darkness... yet it was not absolute. There was enough shadowy light that he could see all about him thick thorny vines, writhing slowly. Some of the light came from broken Caladbolg beside him, and he picked it up as he picked himself up. His spiritual body was unwounded, his eyes intact. Before him was a larger open space, and he stepped forward into it.

Trahearne was standing, barely, arms outstretched, dark greenish necromantic power enveloping a vast shadow, keeping it at bay... but the bubble was so thin, his power weakening... "Trahearne."

"Caoilfhionn?" Trahearne rasped, half-turning to him. Caoilfhionn rushed to his side. He was unaltered, his eyes not red – so it was in the Dream, where he could be his true self.

"I'm here. I'm here." He put his arms around him, holding him close, comforting them both. "I'm here to fight him. You're not alone anymore."

"It's too late," Trahearne said, and his arms wrapped around Caoilfhionn, tighter and tighter, as if to trap him – to crush him. Caoilfhionn leaned back to look up in confusion. "You should have killed me..." Trahearne choked, a horrible, guttural sound, and then thorny vines burst from his mouth, from his eyes, from the ground to wrap around both of them. Caoilfhionn gasped and flinched away – even from his love, for the horror of it shocked him – but then he rallied.

"No. It's never too late! I swear by the Pale Mother, by all the gods, by all the worlds, by all the magic in existence, I will save you or die with you!" The vines were shying away from Caladbolg, even broken as it was, and with an effort he slashed at the vines around, cleaving them with Caladbolg's light and his own fire, forcing the vines to retreat.

Trahearne still writhed, possessed by the vines, and he slapped him down with the flat of the blade. Trahearne hissed and screeched as the blessed blade scorched the vines, and Caoilfhionn pressed it down harder on top of him – until he realized it was giving Trahearne pain as well, corrupted as he was.

He pulled back as he heard Mordremoth laugh from behind him, and turned to see the Dragon's face hanging shadowy before him. The bubble entrapping it was gone. " _I told you it was futile. You've done well to come even here, but you are alone, and you are weak, and you are tired. How pitiful_ you _are. And now I'll kill you in great pain._ " More vines sprang up around them, edging closer and closer, as if this entire Dream would be nothing but vines, strangling, tearing, killing.

His vision blurred, but he blinked past it. Here of all places he knew who he was. Caoilfhionn held his ground, his only illumination Caladbolg's dim light. "As long as you realize you'll never leave here either. Heads I win, tails you lose." He raised the sword and its light shone out in Mordremoth's face, fearless and defiant.

Mordremoth laughed and the vines surged forward. Caoilfhionn sprang to meet them, fire erupting from his strike, pushing them back. But he didn't go too far – he could not leave Trahearne alone. He spun a ring of fire around Trahearne, raising the flames with the strength of his feelings, of his heart.

He heard Trahearne cough and looked down to see the vines retreating from his body. "Are you all right?"

"No," Trahearne whispered. "But you have won me a space. A space to say goodbye in..."

"Stop talking like that!" Caoilfhionn said strongly, swinging at another vine. "Don't you want to come back with me?"

Trahearne gasped for air. "I do, but..."

"But...?"

"I fear I have not the strength."

Caoilfhionn knelt beside him, took his hand and kissed it. "Maybe we don't. But we are Sylvari. Is it not better to die nobly fighting to the last, than to die without having tried?"

Trahearne's look was painfully affectionate. "You're terribly selfish, Caoilfhionn."

Caoilfhionn smiled. "I am. But I give all I have to you in exchange."

Trahearne lifted his head, and Caoilfhionn gave him a hand to his feet. He took a deep breath. "Then I will fight."

Caoilfhionn handed him Caladbolg and drew his sword and dagger. "I will protect you."

" _Amusing,_ " Mordremoth said. " _Come, then! Let me devour you!_ "

"Devour _this_ ," Trahearne said, and Caladbolg blazed with white fire. Caoilfhionn laughed with delight and stabbed forward, Fire and Water swirling in the air about him. Together, step for step, they drove back the vines, fighting closer to that shadowy presence. If only they could reach it, blast it from existence! And swiftly, before their strength failed! Caoilfhionn pressed forwards, acting as Trahearne's vanguard, the more agile of the two of them – and then darted back, slashing away vines that thought to sneak upon them from behind. Together, they were much stronger than apart.

Of course, all this jumping about had a cost, and he stumbled in his weariness. The vines didn't hesitate; he cut two of them apart before they could reach him but the third slammed into his left shoulder. He reeled with a cry of pain, and Trahearne shouted his name, jumping to defend him, cutting him free. He could no longer hold his dagger, leaving it behind and slicing his sword high as Trahearne pushed him to his feet. His vision was blurring again, his head pounding, and he yelled as he cut through the interference. Mordremoth's yellow eyes were before him and he charged with the last of his passion, blinking forward with the power of Air, striking deep into the Dragon's jaw.

Mordremoth tried to shake him off. " _I am the Jungle Dragon! You are my creations! How do you resist still!?_ "

"You're nothing but a memory!" Trahearne snarled and buried Caladbolg to the hilt in the Dragon's eye. Physically, it did not bite deep – but Caladbolg's magic surged, bright enchantment blasting into the Dragon's soul.

Mordremoth gave a great scream and began to dissipate around the edges. Caoilfhionn gritted his teeth and held on, channeling every last ounce of fury and love into the monster, and so did Trahearne, and it faded away into thin air. The vines around them withered into ash, and all about them grew much lighter, like twilight just after sunset, revealing a pleasant, wild jungle-ish landscape.

"It's gone?" Trahearne said, more suspicious than relieved, though he swayed and leaned on Caladbolg to keep himself upright. "Check around for even the smallest seed of a vine."

Caoilfhionn put his hands to the ground and cast about with Earth and Water, as Trahearne reached out above him, searching in his own way. It was his Dream, his mind, he would know every corner of it better than Caoilfhionn. "Does anything feel wrong?" Vaguely, he noticed the visual aspect of this Dream looked like Orr, like obsidian ruins draped in verdant greenery.

"It all feels wrong," Trahearne said wryly. "He broke me, Caoilfhionn. Even if he is truly gone, there is no part of me unscarred by his touch. But..." He paused, as if listening. "I think... he _is_ truly... gone." He turned to Caoilfhionn, smiling though tears ran from his eyes. "And I have you to thank for everything."

"And the Pale Tree, for sending me here." Caoilfhionn smiled broadly through his own overjoyed tears. "I could not bear a future without you."

"Come here." Trahearne threw his arms around him, pulling him close, kissing him hard. They fell to their knees together, then to the ground. He could feel his utter exhaustion; they'd both gone beyond their limits, yet in this metaphysical space they could for once be closer than close. To let their souls touch, to feel their love resonate in a deeper way than the waking world... it was too precious a chance to let go.

He would have to wake up soon, but for now, it was beyond heaven to lie on green grass, Trahearne's weight above him, held with complete enrapturing love, his mouth affirming that love, breathing in his scent and hearing his breath. If only they'd had more time, he would make love to him and profess with his whole body his devotion and adoration, but he would take these breathless seconds, feel his hands and his lips and his tongue-

He opened his eyes and looked into Trahearne's. "I should go. 'Tis not my power that brought me here, and I should not impose on it."

"Of course," Trahearne said softly. "I'll see you in the waking world, then."

* * *

He woke to find himself lying on damp ground, Phiadi bending over him, holding out her hands to channel healing energy into him. He winced with a gasp as he tried to open both eyes and found only one working. Phiadi frowned. "Lie still!" she ordered him. "You're such a jerk, making me _heal_ like this. You better be grateful."

"I am," he whispered, feeling anew all his wounds and his deathly weariness. "Trahearne?"

Annhilda leaned into his field of vision. "Alive. Unconscious. Finally responding to magic. Did you win?"

"I won," he whispered.

"Good. He's much worse off than you, and you look like you've been sat on by a whole village of jotun. Let me get back to it." She leaned away and was lit up by a blue glow, no doubt pumping healing spells into Trahearne.

The others were hurrying about around him, but it didn't matter. He closed his eyes with a smile. He'd done it.

"What are we doing with this arm?" he heard Annhilda ask in the background. "Can we reattach it, or wait for a new one to grow in?"

"We should wait," Caithe answered. "His new arm may not be as strong as the old one, but his body may not accept the old one back."

"Crazy," he heard Rhyoll say. "I wonder why more of them don't become engineers, with that sort of ability?"

"It's still just as painful and inconvenient as it would be for you, not that I'd know from personal experience," Canach told him.

Caoilfhionn cracked his eye open again to look at Phiadi. "I heard that you won outside, too."

"That overgrown snake never stood a chance," she sniffed. "We lost a lot of troops, and it was a bit irritating to defeat the body and find out that the mind was still active, but it was satisfying to tear it up. You should see it, impaled on its own tree."

Rhyoll sat down beside him. "Good to see you alive, twig. Yeah, everyone fought hard, even the Nightmare Court. We got everyone organized to go home, and we sent messages off to Rata Sum. Annhilda's planning to march to the coast and get them to pick us up by ship from there. You'll be home in no time!"

"And then I can rest," Caoilfhionn whispered with a faint smile. "I am so weary."

"Then stop talking," Phiadi told him. "Sleep! I'm 87% sure your body won't give out after all the healing I put into it – though if it does, I'm resurrecting it to do a puppet show. So don't give up entirely just because you're asleep."

"Inappropriate," Rhyoll rumbled, and Caoilfhionn heard Phiadi make a raspberry as he closed his eyes again.

* * *

Annhilda kept tight security around him and Trahearne as they marched to the coast; Trahearne still looked half-Blighted, though what colour his eyes were no one knew yet, for he hadn't woken up yet. The Pact was still pleased to know that their Marshal was alive, he heard, and Annhilda didn't want anyone to panic from seeing him. He was not much better off himself, drifting in and out of painful consciousness right up until the Asuran ships reached the Grove. They'd stopped once at Rata Sum, dropping off most of the Asura, including Zojja, still in a coma herself, and a few others. Eithne had been close by his side the whole time.

They were carried on stretchers to the Menders, but they had only just begun being cared for when word came that they were to be brought to the Omphalos Chamber, the two of them and Hope's Legacy. The Pale Tree was waiting for them, looking even a little better than he'd last seen her. "Ah, my children, it is so good to see you! All of you, Tyria owes you a great debt for freeing us from Mordremoth. And so do I, for bringing my sons safely home." She knelt beside Trahearne. "Poor Trahearne... he has suffered so nobly. And Caoilfhionn... he has fought so hard for his love." He looked up at her with his good eye and a little smile. He didn't mind fighting hard.

"They'll be... able to get better, right?" Damara asked, with an awkward curtsy.

The Pale Tree nodded. "They will never be quite as they were. No one can be. But rest can be had. Would you like that, Caoilfhionn?"

"Yes," he breathed. And Trahearne needed it even more.

There was a soft sound, and a seedpod touched down near him. "Then rest in my branches," said his Mother. "Let me nourish you both as you recover. Aine, Caithe, please lay Trahearne in the pod."

Caoilfhionn made a soft grunt, reaching out, and the Pale Tree laughed a little, wind rustling her branches. "Yes, Caoilfhionn, you will share the pod with him. You don't think I would separate you now, do you?"

He relaxed again, smiling. No, of course not. But he just wanted to make sure.

When Trahearne was nestled in the pod, Aine and Caithe came to him, helping him out of his clothes and lifting him to his feet so he could step into the pod. He draped himself across Trahearne, holding him gently, and lifted his head and arm one more time to wave at his friends outside. "Thank you... for everything. I'll see you... in a little while."

"Sleep tight," Rhyoll said.

"Don't let the bedbugs bite!" Damara said, grinning. "I mean, it's not a bed, so you won't have bedbugs, but anyway!"

"I hope you feel better soon!" Kasmeer said. "Too bad we can't do the same with Logan."

"We'll get him back to Divinity's Reach right away," Annhilda said. "See you later, Caoilfhionn."

Their smiling faces were the last thing he saw before the pod shut, enclosing him in a warm green womb, and he nodded off to sleep right away.


	45. Putting the World Back Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters from the POV of anyone _but_ Caoilfhionn for once, because he's taking a damn _nap_ during LW3.

45: Putting the World Back Together

Damara sighed contently over her hot chocolate in Salma's Mug. It was so good to be back home! And the world would take care of itself for _at least_ a few weeks – at least, it had better, because she didn't want to go _anywhere_ for a bit. And she knew everyone else in Hope's Legacy felt the same.

She'd missed Wintersday, but Petra had forgiven her, was just glad to have her back, especially after she described everything in the Heart of Maguuma. And she was really, really glad to see the rest of her pets, to introduce a couple new ones to the farm, a tiger named Will and a couple of young wyverns named Night and Force. She hoped they would do okay outside of the jungle, where it was a bit colder and less humid in the winter. But as she lavished love and affection on them, and listened attentively to their needs, they didn't seem to mind the change in location. That was the key to having so many exotic companions – to listen to them, and tell them what was unacceptable behavior, and cuddle them when they wanted it. That went for people too, she supposed.

They'd sent the Pact home; some had asked if they were getting a new Marshal, with Trahearne taking his _very_ well-deserved nap with his loving husband, but there hadn't been any consensus between senior leadership when they met to discuss it before splitting up. Annhilda had shook her head. "I'm not sure I want to even retain second-in-command privileges. This campaign was incredibly stressful. Kudos to Trahearne for running two of them, but I might withdraw to save the world in my own way from now on."

"I don't believe I'm eligible, as I'm already second-in-command of the Vigil," Laranthir had said. "What about you, Damara? Phiadi?"

She had blinked. "Um. I don't think I'm cut out for that sort of all-powerful role."

And even Phiadi had hesitated. "I would love to! ...But I need to talk to some people first."

"Well, there's no need to make a decision right now," Annhilda had said. "We'll each lead our respective Orders home and take a rest. The Order heads can decide if they want to do this again. There's no new Dragons being belligerent yet."

"Don't jinx it," Damara had teased her, and then when they reached Lion's Arch, had helped Laranthir bring the Vigil back to their Keep before heading west to home, _finally_. She was really excited to catch up with Petra and Andrew, and a bunch of fanmail had built up while she was away. It was still thrilling to get fanmail, even after almost three years since she'd become a hero.

The chime sounded on the door as she sipped her hot chocolate, and a customer came in, stamping snow from his boots and blowing on his hands. "Ahh, what a wonderful thing it is to be in out of the cold... Lady Damara!"

"Lord Faren," she said, with as much surprise as him. "What brings you here?"

"Why, I was visiting on your behalf, of course! You asked me to." He came to grab a stool at the bar beside her, beaming proudly.

She was still confused. "I asked you to let them know I was okay, and that was weeks ago. Did you not get around to it until..."

"No, no, I came as soon as I got back! And since then, I've been visiting to keep your lovely friend company. She's very charming, and I had to come reassure her that you would be fine. But of course, now you're back! Why didn't you come let _me_ know?"

"Hey, Petra," Damara called. "Has Lord Faren been a pain?"

"No," Petra said, bringing over a glass of wine to him – without being asked, Damara, noted suspiciously. "He's been very friendly. But not, you know, _too_ friendly." Damara relaxed again.

"Thank you, fair Petra," Faren proclaimed, and raised his glass to her. "I aim only to please!"

"Anyway, I only just got back a couple days ago," Damara told him. "I'm glad you made it back safely. How are your... companions?"

"We all made it back safely, thank the Six," Faren said. "Through trials and dangers we emerged unscathed! -Through the aid of the Pact in the Silverwastes, as well as my courage and skill, naturally. Jasmina, however, has given over association with me. I think she's still mad. I don't really know why, I said I was sorry... Merula, though, is an absolute jewel-"

Damara tuned him out for a bit. It was enough to know that all the silly ponces who'd gone into the Heart of Maguuma had come back out, and Divinity's Reach had not been thrown into grieving or unrest based on Faren's foolishness. It was still a bit distracting, to have him sitting right next to her, so cheerful and loquacious and broad-shouldered, even if he was currently talking about people who didn't interest her.

"But enough about me!" Faren eventually said. Had he switched back to talking about himself? She hadn't noticed. Oops. "Tell me of your struggle with the Dragon! Was it fearsome? Were you dashing? Of course you were dashing."

She had to laugh a bit. "I didn't actually get to fight the Dragon myself. I held off the Mordrem while Caoilfhionn and Caithe and Canach and Braham went in. It was kind of scary, yeah, especially when we all thought it was going to take over Trahearne and we'd have to fight it all over again and lose Trahearne in the process... but Caoilfhionn saved him too, the absolute madlad."

"You told it better yesterday," Petra said. "Go on, start at the beginning."

Damara gave Petra a 'what gives?' look, because while she could have told the story better, she didn't think Faren was worth starting from the beginning for, but Petra egged her on with her own looks, so she shrugged. "All right, well, back when the Pact launched, we were actually trying to find Caithe because she'd run off with something very important..."

* * *

Annhilda strolled up to the Stonewright's Steading with her welcome-back gift tucked under her arm – smoked meats from her family, and a new chisel she'd wrangled from a colleague at the Priory. Many Norn and others were already gathered there, skaalds, sculptors, havrouns, and Knut of course. Though, as she looked around, she didn't see Braham anywhere.

Knut greeted her. "Hail, Slayer! Good to see you. I knew you wouldn't miss this."

"Of course not," Annhilda said, smiling. "Where's Eir? Is everyone mobbing her at once like you did me that one time?"

Knut cleared his throat. "No, we're trying to keep everything orderly. She's... well, perhaps you'd best speak to her yourself. She's inside right now. But before I forget, congratulations on your victory! That's two now!"

"The Spirits smiled upon us," Annhilda said. "Long may the skaalds sing of it!"

"Forever and a day! But don't let me keep you. Help yourself to food and ale!"

"Thanks, Knut," Annhilda said, and moved on, grabbing a mug as he suggested before moving on to the conspicuous blindfolded Charr holding forth near the door.

"She had him dead to rights, and we all knew it," Rytlock boomed. "And what was he going to do? Beg? Plead? Wasn't his style, and Eir wouldn't buy it anyway, so he just jumped off the ledge! Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of escape – even to his death; she shot him before he hit the ground!" He laughed and slapped his leg. "Damn, that Norn knew how to exact revenge!"

The youngsters he was regaling laughed too, and cheered. "Well-told," Annhilda told Rytlock. It wasn't in the style of the skaalds, but what did it matter? It was a story from Eir's own pack-mate.

"Yeah, well, everyone was getting a little too hung up about Eir's new disability, including Eir," Rytlock said. "Thought I'd remind everyone she's had a life-time of taking no tripe from anyone, and I don't expect her to start now, legs or no."

"Sounds about right," Annhilda said. "Have you seen her already?"

"Yeah, but I'll come in again with you. I've got stuff to talk to both of you about, anyway."

"All right." Annhilda went in, and others graciously made way for her and waved her in, even though they were lined up already, calling her Slayer.

There was Eir, sitting in a wheelchair, out of armour, Garm's head resting on her knee. She didn't look right, just sitting there in normal clothes, and there was an air of defeat about her, though she was trying to hide it. But she brightened to see Annhilda. "Annhilda! Good to see you. Get over here."

"Eir!" Annhilda cried. She ran forward to give Eir a hug. "Brought you a token of my regard."

"Why, thank you," Eir said, accepting the package. She heaved a sigh. "I've got too many gifts. And I didn't even do anything." She glanced towards a table piled high with similar packages. "I won't walk again. I intended to retire, but to have my legend cut short like _this_... I can't talk to just anyone about it, but I can tell you – it sucks dolyak sweat."

"You killed Faolain," Rytlock said. "You survived the jungle, even if you never fight again."

"And that's more than many can say," Eir said, nodding. "Doesn't mean I deserve all this... adulation."

Annhilda crossed her arms, disagreeing. "I know you'd wish for your retirement to be on your own terms, but no one can drag you out to fight any more bloody dragons now."

"True, true. Except Braham thinks he has to do it for me, and... well, I'd hoped we'd be able to spend more time together, but he's run off to do just that."

"Huh? Is that why I haven't seen him?"

Eir nodded. "He's out in the wilderness somewhere, trying to find a way to take down Jormag. I tried to tell him to slow down, but he's as reckless and headstrong as I used to be."

Annhilda nodded. She could imagine Braham seeing his mother, once proud and strong, now helpless and upset over being helpless, and seizing upon the thought of continuing her legacy with both hands. He probably didn't want to come to the party since it was, in a way, an acknowledgement of Eir's fall. "He'll calm down eventually. We just have to be patient."

"Well, I have lots of time to practice that now," Eir said. "This is probably the end of Destiny's Edge, though."

Rytlock nodded. "With Zojja and Logan out of the field, and Snaff gone, and Caithe... Well..."

Eir looked up at him unhappily. "I'm sorry, Rytlock. We were the best team."

"Yeah, but there's no sense in looking back." Rytlock shrugged.

"Maybe it's time to start again," Eir said, looking between him and Annhilda.

Annhilda looked confused. "If Rytlock wants to join Hope's Legacy, he's more than welcome."

"I'm not joining a guild named Hope's Legacy," Rytlock growled. "Who named it, Caoilfhionn?"

"He was the strongest proponent of those particular words, but we all had a hand in it, the original five of us," Annhilda said. "We modeled it after Destiny's Edge, because why not?"

"Yeah, but Destiny's Edge is badass. Hope's Legacy is... foofy."

Annhilda put her hands on her hips. "Do you have any other objections than the name? We can change the name. I'll ask everyone. Except Caoilfhionn, since he's out of commission right now."

Eir laughed. "Rytlock won't admit it, but he's dying to join you. I've gathered he enjoyed fighting at your side through the Maguuma." Was that what he wanted to talk about?

"Oh, shut up," Rytlock said. "They've got good fighters, and you're a good guild leader, Annhilda. Probably better now that you're dropping the Pact Commander thing."

"Thanks," Annhilda said. "How about... Dragon's Watch?"

Rytlock snuffled. "Acceptable."

"I'll ask the others," Annhilda said. "Can't imagine most of them will object. You're right, Caoilfhionn might, but who knows when he'll be back? He's a loyal Wolf pup, though, he'll stick with us even if he doesn't like the name."

"Good," Eir said. "Your guild has done great things, Annhilda, and I know you'll go on to do many more."

Annhilda smiled at her. "Thank you, Eir. But I don't think you're really done yet, either. Once you find your bearings, you'll be a force to be reckoned with as you always have been – just in a different way."

"That's... kind of you to say," Eir said, looking away. Garm whined at her. "Can't say I can see it just yet, but Raven is with you, so I'll trust you... Like you used to trust me."

Annhilda shook her hand. "Raven himself would be proud to tell your legend. I'll visit as often as I can, if you would like."

"I... would like, yes. Spirits go with you, Annhilda."

* * *

Annhilda, Damara, Phiadi, and Rhyoll had convened with Rytlock to visit Taimi and Wegaff in Rata Novus; as Annhilda had thought, none of them was fussed about the name change, and everyone was excited about Rytlock joining, especially Rhyoll. Mostly. "He's gonna ride my tail about getting into the field more, isn't he?"

Damara was easy enough with the name change. She'd liked the old name, but she liked the new name, too, and it sort of reflected better what they did? And the guild had changed from when it was just the five of them starting out.

The lab in Rata Novus was bustling with Asura; they had to do a bit of a song and dance to evade Phlunt and his lackeys and go to the mysterious dragon lab that Phiadi had told them about, where Taimi could talk to them freely about Dragon magic and chak organs and other weird things. And fight off the chak when they found their way in and attacked, which left Damara worried for Taimi. Without Scruffy, Taimi was an easy target for the bugs, even with her new, grown-up armour. Sure, Wegaff had a bit of experience as an adventurer, and he could protect her with his elemental magic, and the lab had point defenses built in, but... the chak had gotten Asura before.

But Phiadi didn't seem worried about it, so Damara tried not to worry too much. It was just her nature to worry about small squishy things, and Asura collectively counted as those, even if they didn't like it.

They came out of the secret lab to find another Charr making a lot of noise. "I was told I'd find the Pact Commander here. Anyone? Were they wrong?"

Annhilda stepped forward. "General Soulkeeper, this is quite a surprise. What brings you to Rata Novus?"

The head of Damara's Order, Almorra Soulkeeper, came to shake her hand in greeting. "You do, Commander. I've come here to offer you a new position within the Pact. The Marshal rank is... uh... vacant. And we want you to fill it. At least until Trahearne has recovered, if he ever does."

Annhilda smiled wistfully. "This is an honour."

"I'm glad you view it in that light. The Pact is hanging on by a thread."

"I see..." Annhilda traded glances with Damara and Phiadi. Were the Order heads squabbling again? Couldn't agree on a new leader besides Annhilda? Surely Laranthir would have passed along their impasse from before, to Almorra at least – but maybe Almorra thought that some pressure from higher-up would help her to a decision.

"I can tell you're having your doubts, so let me just be up front about the role. Certain Pact elements feel like Marshal Trahearne's mistake was going out into the field personally and getting himself incapacitated. The new marshal would be planted safely in an office in Lion's Arch. Still leading the troops, but out of harm's way."

"Oh, wow, that kills any interest _I_ had in the job," Phiadi said to the side. "They better get someone who isn't a monster on the battlefield then, or that'll be a waste..."

"Not to mention, how's communication going to work at that distance?" Wegaff whispered to her, and Phiadi nodded.

Annhilda was much more tactful. "As flattered as I am by your offer, I'm going to have to respectfully decline, General. After our battle with Mordremoth, I believe that our guild – renamed Dragon's Watch, with the addition of Rytlock – would be more effective operating independently."

General Almorra nodded gravely. "I understand your decision on your early retirement, although I'm disappointed. I still believe in the Pact's goal."

Annhilda nodded. "I do too, and I'll always be ready to lend a hand. It'll just be outside the system."

Rytlock laughed. "Out from under a mountain of paperwork, you mean!"

General Soulkeeper grunted. "Laugh it up, no-eyes. I have something for you, too. A letter from the Black Citadel. You must've really brushed some higher-ups the wrong way." She handed him a letter. Rytlock didn't even drop his blindfolded gaze to it as he crushed it and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Are you sure you want to just crumple that up and throw it away, sir?" Rhyoll asked.

Rytlock shrugged. "Why not? It's what I did with the last two."

"Wish I could do that," Rhyoll said. "I always seem to get interrupted just when I get to the fiddliest bits."

There was a clatter and shouting from below, and the Peacemaker guards began heading quickly in the direction of the ramps down. Damara listened, and caught something about 'crazy Sylvari'.

"Hey, we should go follow them, see what's going on," Phiadi said, and headed off down the ramp. Damara and the others followed her.

They arrived to see several Peacemakers pointing guns at Canach, who had his hands up and a more disgruntled expression than usual. "What happened?" Phiadi demanded.

"Hi, Canach!" Damara said, and waved.

Canach huffed. "I came in through the caves because I couldn't find the gate. I wasn't expecting such an... enthusiastic welcome."

"All right, stand down, everyone," Phiadi snapped, and the Peacemakers retreated.

"Did you see that?" Taimi said, and chortled. "Phlunt was so mad, even his fleas jumped ship. Canach, you're my hero!"

"So why the surprise visit?" Damara asked. Phiadi had told her that Agent Zildi had configured the point defense turrets to only register more-than-two-legged creatures – which meant chak – as hostile, which was great for Canach sneaking in without getting molested and all; she just hoped no one forgot and invited a centaur in someday.

"I'm here answering _the call_..." Canach wiggled his fingers at her.

Annhilda flinched, her hand going to her sword. "But Mordremoth's dead! You killed-"

Canach snorted. "Oh, it's not the Jungle Dragon's call. This time it's Anise's."

"Still holds your billet, huh?" Damara asked.

"She does. But certain messy events have transpired, and I'm assured that if I clean them up... my billet will be released, and I'll once again be free from any yoke."

"That's great!" Damara said. "How can we help?"

"Minister Caudecus recently, ahem, 'left' the queen's protective custody. Anise sent me and a squad of Shining Blade to help the good minister find his way back to Divinity's Reach."

"Any idea on his whereabouts?" Phiadi asked.

"There's been a flare-up of White Mantle activity in northern Maguuma, and intel points to him possibly heading there."

"That's the crazy magical hot spot we saw!" Taimi cried. "Up by the Bloodstone!"

Rytlock frowned under his blindfold. "I thought the minister claimed to not be in bed with those mursaat-lovers."

Canach sighed expressively. "Didn't we all?"

"We'll be happy to assist," Annhilda said, and turned to Rytlock. "Rytlock, you mind sending word to the others? Marjory, for one, might be getting a little restless in Divinity's Reach and want in on the action."

"All right. Gives me a chance to poke Logan, too."

General Soulkeeper cleared her throat. "Annhilda, if you like, you can hitch a ride on my airship. It's not far out of our way; we can drop you off."

Annhilda smiled. "Now _that's_ an offer I can't turn down, General."

"Perfect," Canach said. "I'll grab my Shining Blade detachment and meet you there." He turned as if to go back through the cave.

Damara grabbed his arm. "Hold on, you don't have to go back out that way. It's much more comfortable to take the teleporter."

He followed her without resisting... much. "I'm not sure I completely agree, but if you insist..."

* * *

And then Bloodstone Fen exploded, and then... reverse-exploded, and _wow_ it was dangerous out there, and there was an incredible amount of magic just floating around. Damara was pretty sure this was out of her league, but thankfully Taimi had stowed away some sort of communication device in Annhilda's pack and was constantly spying on them. Not that Damara minded when it meant she could let Taimi and Wegaff sort out the magic and the math way off in Rata Novus, safe and able to concentrate, and leave Damara to shoot things as necessary.

And the White Mantle was there, and not even bothering to hide. She'd picked up horrifying journal pages, mentioning human sacrifice, souls bound eternally to the Bloodstone, backstabbing and infighting... Why couldn't they just be normal? What was this all supposed to accomplish, really – what was so important about world domination? Why did cults have to be so _incredibly creepy?_

On the bright side, they made it to a temple complex that had been ripped from the ground and now floated aimlessly in the air, where Annhilda nodded to the spiky Sylvari leaning against the nearest wall. "Canach, glad to see you're alive. I was afraid you'd been caught in the blast."

He stood and came to greet them with a sardonic eyebrow. "We almost were, but then... not."

"Us, too. Your troops?"

"Some of them are still looking for you, and the rest are forming a perimeter around this place. I wanted to deal with the minister privately; I really only need you there to corroborate events, should they go south. Plus, I ran into these two delinquents and figured they may as well join in the fun."

Rhyoll gave the 'delinquents' a cheerful wave. "Marjory, Rytlock. Showed up just in time to help us track down Caudecus."

"It was all anyone could talk about in Divinity's Reach," Marjory said. "Canach, you're here under the orders of-?"

"Countess Anise is _very_ concerned about Caudecus's well-being," Canach said, with the faintest smirk. "I'm to return him home unless the innocent-until-proven-guilty minister does something to change those plans."

Damara giggled. "She must be very hopeful your plans change."

The smirk grew fractionally. "I was instructed to be tight-lipped about it. But I will say this: Yes."

Phiadi held up a hand for attention. "Before we look for him: Caudecus may have been the someone who consumed the Bloodstone's magic. If it's true, he may be a little stronger than we all remember."

Marjory frowned. "If he did, we can't just let him loose on Kryta... or maybe all of Tyria is his prize this time."

Canach shrugged. "I only want to be off Anise's leash. Saving the world would just be a corollary benefit."

"We already saved the world like a month ago," Damara said. "By Melandru, it gets messed up fast. I wish people would stop messing with it."

"The Dragons are bad enough as it is," Phiadi agreed. "Delusional fanatics really just need to get slapped down as fast as possible or you end up with this nonsense time and again."

"Then why is the Inquest still around?" Canach asked, with another eyebrow.

"Because I'm not on the Arcane Council... yet," Phiadi said, with a toss of her head. "And given what I just said, you probably shouldn't trust _me_ with a private army. Even though I wouldn't use it for personal gain... much."

"My confidence is overflowing," Canach said, deadpan.

"Then you're one of the smart ones," Phiadi said in kind.

Up the hill they went, following the winding stair as it looped slowly towards the summit, dodging traps and White Mantle who didn't seem terribly perturbed that their base was now floating. Soon they came to a large double door, closed, maybe locked, there were no handles though.

Canach turned to them. "Let me take the lead, Rytlock. I was given specific orders on how this was supposed to be executed, and I don't need you to defile it with your inclination to blindly smite."

Rytlock growled. "If that's a blindfold crack..."

Canach ignored him and gestured to Annhilda. "Care to take the door, Comman- Annhilda?"

"Absolutely," Annhilda said. "And yeah, no more Commander for me." She took a couple steps and put her boot squarely in the middle of the double door; both halves flung open simultaneously. It hadn't been locked.

Canach ran in. "Minister Caudecus, you've obviously... Oh. He's not here. Rytlock, smite away!"

Rytlock chuckled and brandished his blazing sword at the shocked and angry Mantle cultists. "My pleasure!"

Damara was already loosing arrows at the magic casters in the back, her raven Orion swooping forward to stab their eyes with his big beak. "Go for the eyes, dear," he said, quite clearly, and prompting startled looks from several people on both sides of the fight. Maybe she'd said that too many times in training, and he was stuck with saying it now whenever there was something to peck at. Oops!

The battle was fierce, but short. The White Mantle were determined to protect their master with their lives, but despite their strange bloodstone powers, they were not... that great at fighting? Their group was probably just really strong from having fought an Elder Dragon and surviving the jungle. And they also weren't high on bloodstone, so they still had all their mental faculties.

"Why do you think Caudecus wanted them to collect bloodstones?" she asked, looking around at the carnage and shattered crystals when they'd struck down the last cultist.

"Hopefully to weigh his pockets down while he jumped in a lake," Rytlock said.

Damara laughed. "I wish! I knew he didn't like Queen Jennah but I didn't think he was actually Evil with a capital E."

"Most politicians are Evil with a capital E," Rhyoll said. "How do you think they get to be politicians?"

Canach snorted. "You, I like you. Well, hopefully he hasn't flown the coop." They'd walked a little further up the hill, and were now at another set of ostentatious doors.

"Oh yeah, he's in there," Damara said; she didn't even have to listen closely to hear Caudecus yelling impatiently at his underlings from behind the doors. "Dwayna preserve us, he sounds like a delight to work for."

"Everyone ready to crash his party?" Canach asked. "Time for your foot key, Commander."

Annhilda grinned and did the foot in the door again, and it slammed open with just as much a satisfying bang as before.

Canach stormed in, sword and shield at the ready. "Minister Caudecus! You've obviously been taken prisoner by these White Mantle zealots. I'm here to rescue you and return you to the Royal Palace."

Caudecus was standing at the top of a majestic platform overlooking the circular courtyard, wearing White Mantle grand leader robes, scowling at the intruders. At his side was a young noblewoman whose face Damara vaguely recognized, and all about them, on the wall and in the courtyard, were heavily-armed White Mantle zealots. "Let's drop the charade, shall we, you ignorant leaf! I will not be returning to Divinity's Reach until I wear the crown!"

Damara was really impressed with Canach's self-control. He was coolly poised, not the slightest hint of a smirk on his face, though somehow he was still radiating smugness more than ever. "So I'm clear, you're admitting you're associated with the White Mantle?"

Caudecus flushed a darker shade of beetroot and he gesticulated wildly. "Are you quite touched? I'm their supreme leader! And they will carry me all the way to the throne of Kryta!"

 _Now_ he started to smirk, just barely. "Members of Dragon's Watch, did you witness that?"

Annhilda let out a tight grin of her own. "I did."

Canach pointed his sword in an exaggeratedly formal manner at Caudecus. "Then by the providence granted to me by Countess Anise, I hereby pass sentence on you, Caudecus Beetlestone. Today is your last day on Tyria. Allow my blade to bid you farewell!"

Caudecus yelled at his minions, and one of the big violet jade constructs rose before them, raising its arms to bash Canach, who sidestepped with a bored look before flicking his whipsword across it. "I believe it's safe to assume Caudecus didn't absorb the bloodstone's magic; otherwise he'd be down here himself," he said.

"I'm trying to figure out who did," Phiadi said, directing her largest flesh golem to grapple one of the construct's arms.

Damara had been looking up and around – there were White Mantle all along the walls, armed with bows and staves, but they had not begun to shoot down into the ring yet. Waiting to see how good their crystal golem thing was first, she guessed. Well, it was... slow, and it might have been powerful, with its big punishing stone arms and its beams of magical energy, but it was... slow.

Until those annoying red beams arced out of the crystals around the arena, zapping each of them. Damara winced as it struck her in the chest, sapping the life force out of her... and then she flexed her innate magic with a grunt, breaking off the beam and shattering the crystal. Her arrows appeared to be just skipping off the surface of the dark purple jade, and it was starting to get frustrating, even if it was also chipping away at the spell that powered it. She really didn't like being in the middle of things with her sword, like the others; she lost track of things on the periphery that way, and there were enough of her friends in melee anyway. So she and Orion hung back, dodging magic, watching the White Mantle to see if they would attack, and let Rhyoll blast away with his shotgun and Rytlock hack with his magic sword. Maybe she should get a magic sword. What had Eir done with Magdaer again?

Rhyoll guffawed as he blew the head off the construct, ancient magic crumbling against raw explosive power. But suddenly Damara gasped as she felt magic seize them all and freeze them in place; whether from the dying construct or from the mesmers around them, she couldn't tell. Caudecus was ranting already. "You cannot stop me! The Krytan throne was built upon White Mantle blood, and we are its rightful heirs!" The doors opened again, and more White Mantle rushed in to surround them, ready to execute them. Oh, that wasn't fair! Her poor raven was fluttering slightly on the ground beside her and she couldn't even pick him up. She glared at Caudecus, up on his wall, sticking out her tongue at him.

Suddenly, an inhumanly tall figure rose from behind Caudecus upon trails of green and red magic; he had a halo of shadowy tentacles on his back. "You are a heretic, Caudecus! And you shall lead no White Mantle, for I am their _god_!" He raised his arms heavenward, and Damara made a horrified face, because that could only mean...

Caudecus gasped as he whirled to see who was interrupting him now. "What? It... It can't be...!"

"I am the last Mursaat," said the figure regally. "Many years ago, you knew me as Lazarus the Dire. I have returned from the brink of existence!"

Caudecus made a slashing gesture with his hand. "No! You are a false god! The White Mantle is mine! Don't listen to him!" The White Mantle soldiers looked back and forth between them, some of them dithering, some of them quickly choosing sides, one way or another.

"Empty words formed by the forked tongue of a snake. The Human seat of power and its current monarch are inconsequential. We are destined to face more virtuous pursuits. My true believers, you're welcome to seek shelter in my light. To those who doubt... you're welcome to burn." Fire rained down from above, indiscriminately targeting everyone in the arena. Damara gasped and tried to dodge, though she didn't know where to dodge _to_. At least the White Mantle seemed to be getting the worst of it, but what if-

"Canach!" Marjory cried, casting a set of bone stairs from the ground towards Caudecus's platform. "Go now!"

Canach leaped up the stairs, really dramatically, but all his charisma didn't do anything, because the mesmer standing next to Caudecus waved her staff, and both of them disappeared in a blink. "No! ...Bah! Mesmers!" Canach sheathed his sword and waited for the others to join him on the now-empty platform – Lazarus had also disappeared; the fire storm had stopped, and the other White Mantle were dead or fled. "Sorry, Marjory, no offense to Kas."

Marjory nodded good-naturedly. "Helpful if they're on your side, annoying if they're not. I understand."

"But now he's gone," Canach grumped, and put his hands on his hips, glaring at Caudecus's last spot.

"We can help catch him," Damara offered. Her raven landed on her shoulder and offered her kisses with a hearty 'mwah!'. "Not now, Orion. Love you too."

"Doesn't look like there's any sign of Lazarus, either," Marjory said. "A Mursaat alive... We should immediately warn the queen, but he appeared to be disinterested in Kryta."

"Surprisingly different from the last time the Mursaat were sticking their creepy bird feet where they didn't belong," Rytlock rumbled.

Annhilda tilted her head at Marjory with a half-smile. "Marjory, weren't you just saying something about people not being able to change?"

Marjory met the look with a level stare of her own. "A 'virtuous pursuit' could mean a lot of things to a Mursaat. But I'll admit, I'm curious."

"Yeah, they might think it's noble to make a necklace out of your teeth," Rytlock put in.

"I think we're all missing the point here, and it's this," Phiadi said. "With Caudecus not displaying any signs of excess power, I think we have to assume Lazarus was the one behind the blast. We need to find him and get an idea of what he's planning to do with all that magic."

"Caudecus will want to hunt him down too," Canach said, his stern look relaxing into a calculating smirk. "He won't readily surrender control of the White Mantle. One will inevitably lead us to the other."

Annhilda nodded. "This'll be a good way to start the new guild: a crisis, but hopefully not a world-ending crisis."

"It's how I prefer my crises," Canach said dryly.

"Hey boss, can you read me?" Taimi's voice broke in from Annhilda's pack. "I have some news!"

"I'm here, Taimi," Annhilda said. "What do you have?"

"Something possibly... slightly... marginally... cataclysmic," Taimi said.

"Dammit!" Phiadi said to Annhilda. "You invoked Murphi!"

Taimi gulped. "I managed to finally get detailed ley readings from the map, and determined... well... Primordus is active."

Phiadi swore with more descriptive words, but quieter.

"Um, I can still hear you," Taimi said. "Also, I agree."

Phiadi sniffed, instantly on her dignity again. "You heard nothing. But I'm coming down to the lab to get the numbers. Are we done here? I'm done here." Without waiting for an answer, she teleported away.

"I understand your priority will be the Dragon," Canach said, and grimaced. "Mine, however, is unfortunately spoken for."

"Best of luck," Damara said. Ooh, she really wanted to help track down Caudecus! But this was exactly what Dragon's Watch was for, watching Dragons, so she had to go do that.

"Thank you, and to you," Canach said gravely. "Farewell." He teleported.


	46. Four Moms and a Dragon

46: Four Moms and a Dragon

Damara ran into the egg chamber of Tarir, her jaguar Maidy bounding beside her. She and Annhilda had both received such a disturbing dream about the crystal egg that they'd decided to leave behind Hope's Le- that was, Dragon's Watch for a few days and go to Tarir to check on the egg, and Marjory had volunteered to join them from curiosity. Ruka had greeted them with an almost un-Exalted flutter of excitement. "The egg is hatching! Glint's second scion will soon be here."

Damara nodded impatiently. "Okay, cool – hi, Caithe – can we go in?"

"I think you are the only ones who _can_ go in," Ruka said. "The barrier will not allow us who are not attuned to the chamber."

And so she ran up the golden steps to the centre, in time to see the egg spin into a shattering explosion. She flinched and covered her eyes, but it seemed the crystalline fragments dissolved instantly – were they made of magic? Well, dragons were made of magic, so that tracked... She didn't have a lot of time to think about it anyway, because coalescing into physical permanence where the egg had been was an _absolutely_ adorable baby dragon, with a square head, gigantic green eyes, and a perpetual playful grin.

" _Oh my Gods!_ " she squealed – and then the golden barrier around the baby dragon fell. "Umm... is it supposed to do that?"

"On your guard!" Annhilda cried beside her, drawing her sword. "Are those... destroyers? Primordus destroyers?"

"But why are they green?" Damara asked, whipping out her bow. "We gotta defend – Aurene!" She didn't ask where the name had come from. There wasn't time. She just knew it.

There was a flash of light, and the Luminate appeared beside the dragon, holding out her hand to blast away a couple little destroyer crabs that had dodged Damara's arrows. "Something's wrong! Please, hold them off while I right this!" She projected a small white shield over the little blue dragon, and began to cast something bigger.

"We can do that, by Raven's beak," Annhilda said, and threw herself towards the nearest destroyers, ducking their hideous claws and stabbing the nearest one clean through with her longsword. She smacked another one out of the way with her shield, and Maidy sprang on it, raking it with her claws. Damara had turned her attention to one of the other openings, because the destroyers were fast and trying to get around Annhilda. A volley of arrows deterred them for a moment, but then they surged forward again.

A figure appeared by the stairs, a big, floating figure who was no Exalted. Damara yelled between arrows. "Lazarus! Leave! Immediately!"

"I do not come with ill intentions!" said the Mursaat, and Damara had to admit he wasn't throwing spells at them yet so...?

"Then earn our goodwill," Annhilda said, pointing her sword at him in the half-second she had between destroyers. "Don't let the destroyers up those stairs."

"And give the dragon a wide berth, Lazarus!" Damara called. "It would be a pity to have your second life be short-lived!" Yeah, she didn't know how to kill a Mursaat, but if he dared touch this precious wee bab she'd have his head on a plate!

But she had to admit that with the three of them to hold the three openings between the 'wings', defending the tiny dragon was much easier. And still nerve-wracking. Attackers weren't supposed to get this close! She was supposed to be able to shoot them from up above while they struggled to reach the ascending ramp! And they were relentless, stomping and skittering past Maidy with single-minded focus. She couldn't shoot fast enough, and Maidy's claws and fangs weren't that great against their rocky shells!

"Arrgh!" She gave a frustrated cry and dropped her bow to the ground, grabbing at her sword and her warhorn, blowing a sharp blast that made them flinch momentarily. Not much, but enough, and then she could hack at them, ducking around razor claws, stabbing them right in the glowy bits. Maidy scratched them from behind, sensing her intent, giving her easier targets.

"Doing all right?" Annhilda called.

"Eengh," Damara grunted, kicking a small destroyer crab like a football. "Can't they just _quit?_ "

"That would be too easy," Annhilda said. "Keep it up! Their numbers are falling!"

Damara gritted her teeth. "C'mon, Maidy."

How long did the Luminate need? She'd feel less desperate if she had a countdown or something, assuming that the destroyers got vapourized when the defenses were restored. And the humidity was just as bothersome as it had always been in the Heart of Maguuma, making her sweat intensely, drops rolling down her brown face and into her cleavage. Kryta might have been humid and semi-tropical but it wasn't like this! She slashed and parried, trying to avoid their return swipes, Maidy clawed and bit, but slowly the defenders were being driven back.

Just when she thought one of them might get past her and make a run for the dragon, there was a _whoosh_ and light flashed over them. The destroyers did not drop dead, but at least there weren't any more coming up! Now that was a countdown she could handle!

When the last of them had died to Annhilda's sword, Damara looked around the room, which was as wide as the civic square under the jellyfish in 'new' Lion's Arch, and saw Marjory and Caithe entering, looking around in wonder. Damara beckoned them over, and they broke into a run. "Sorry, we got held up outside," Marjory said. "What's happening?"

"It's done, Commander!" the Luminate said. "The barrier has been restored. The scion of Glint is safe."

Annhilda took a step towards the mursaat floating quietly on one side of the platform. "Not until that Mursaat is out of here."

"A Mursaat?" The Luminate flinched, as if she'd only just noticed. "The Forgotten passed on tales of these creatures. I never thought I'd encounter one... You are the dragon's champion and shepherd, but may I suggest purging this impurity directly."

Annhilda opened her mouth to object, but Lazarus broke in smoothly. "The mursaat I was in the tales of the Forgotten is dead. I have been reborn, and rising from the void brings with it a new perspective. We previously sought power through treacherous means, only to save ourselves when the Dragons rose. But now I see we must all stand against the Dragons to save everyone."

Damara gave him a side-eye. "Can I get a 'no kidding'? But why do you hope to align with _us_?"

"You have killed two, have you not? Our interests are the same. The Fire Dragon is rising. I cannot stand idly by and repeat past mistakes. My actions since returning prove me a useful ally."

"Like when you destroyed the Bloodstone?" Marjory asked skeptically.

"The Bloodstone was destabilized by years of misguided White Mantle tinkering," Lazarus said reasonably. "I did absorb the blast to repower myself, yes, but also, how many countless lives were saved?"

Like their own lives, Damara realized. Aurene looked back and forth between them, looking confused and _utterly adorable_ at the same time. Damara really wished she could cuddle with her! She looked like a smaller, slightly different, bluer version of Night, her electric wyvern friend.

"What's the angle you're running?" Marjory demanded. "What's in an alliance for you?"

"The salvation of this world," Lazarus said. "The White Mantle is splintering. There are those who follow Caudecus, and those loyal to me. I can make them a force for good, another spear in an army against the Dragons."

"This is the same accord the Mursaat struck with the Forgotten," said the Luminate. "Then, they simply broke their word and disappeared."

"That was a cowardly act of self-preservation, and something I will not repeat," Lazarus said.

"You won't have the chance," Annhilda muttered to herself. "You seem earnest enough, so I hope you'll understand when I tell you there's no way I can agree to this. I can't keep an eye on you at all times."

"I have an idea, boss," Marjory said. "I'll do it. I'll dig into his claim, and if Lazarus has truly changed, we can reassess the situation."

"I welcome any inquiries," Lazarus said placidly.

"Oh, it'll be much more than that," Marjory said with an eyebrow. "I'm going to be embedded with you, shadow your every move."

"Can we talk about this for a minute?" Annhilda said, and the four of them huddled together, well away from the Mursaat. Damara glanced over her shoulder at him. She didn't know how good his hearing was. "Okay, first of all, he's absorbed the Bloodstone's power. We obviously can't just easily put him down if his story doesn't check out."

"He's touched death, boss," Marjory said. "And now he's back... There's something... The necromancer in me wants to find out more. And... who knows?"

"Damara?"

"Well, it could be a trap. It's probably a trap. It's almost certainly a trap."

Annhilda nodded. "I agree. You remember those tablets I was translating, back on the Fire Islands?"

"Yeah. It's absolutely possible he's just behaving sweet until he sees a chance to go all revenge/conquer the world on us... The Mursaat were absolutely no-holds-barred racist imperialists in the worst sense of all the words, and I wouldn't put it past a single one of them to think he could do the job on his own. On the other hand, I really like a good heel-face turn story."

"This isn't a story," Caithe said. "Not yet, anyway."

"Sorry, my point was... I'll side with Marjory. We should take a good hard look at him, not write him off with no chance."

"I appreciate you looking out for me, but I won't be told what I can and can't do," Marjory said. "I will be careful, I promise." She turned away from them and walked cheerfully over to the Mursaat. "Lazarus, let's move out," she said, and Damara had the feeling that if they'd been on the same height level, she would have looped her arm companionably through his. "We have a lot to talk about, my floaty new friend."

The Mursaat did not respond, but followed her to the door.

"I can't help but feel like I'll be explaining this to Kasmeer shortly," Annhilda said, rubbing her forehead. "Given what happened today, I'd feel a little better if someone I knew was watching the chamber."

"Someone you trust?" Caithe said.

"Yeah, so can you ask Taimi to get here right away?"

Caithe paused, then finally smiled. "You're joking with me. I take that as a good sign."

Annhilda let out a small smile of her own. "I was pretty pissed off when you interfered with Caoilfhionn's quest-thing, and refused to explain anything, but even that... you've never been an enemy of this dragon."

"I'll lay down my life for her," Caithe said.

"Wow, Aurene has a lot of moms," Damara said, joking. "You're her mom, and you're her mom, and I'm her mom, and the Luminate is also a mom, and I guess Caoilfhionn probably is too since, you know, he was one of the ones who got her here in the first place." She approached the dragon, who had flopped comfortably on her pedestal and was watching them. "Hey! Are we all your moms?"

The dragon trilled and tilted its head on one side, then looked around like she expected someone else there.

"Sorry, he's probably still having a big long nap," Damara said. "He's been through a lot. But I'm sure he'll come visit as soon as he wakes up!"

The dragon mumbled and blinked.

"Oh, man, I really want to cuddle with you," Damara said, and reached out to pet the dragon.

"You can't treat the scion of Glint-" began the Luminate, and stopped when Aurene closed her eyes and trilled happily.

"She likes it!" Damara said. "Look, you gotta give babies lots of care and love and attention. It's probably been a really long time since you've been human, and maybe I don't know anything about baby dragons as opposed to baby anything else, but oo just need lots an' lots of neck-scratchies, don't oo?" She gave the dragon a big hug and lots of scritches. "Come on, you guys, give her some love!"

"I don't want to scare her," Caithe said, moving closer cautiously.

"Sure, we don't want to overwhelm her, on her first day of post-egg life, but she's bonded to all of us, right? Give her a li'l rub, she'll like it."

Caithe did so, and her whole face lightened up in a way Damara hadn't seen on her before. Annhilda came close and also reached out to the baby dragon, and Aurene shoved her head at her for pets too.

"Who's a good girl, huh?" Damara cooed. "You're the bestest little dragon in the whole world!"

"She's the only little dragon in the whole world," Caithe said dryly, stroking her tail.

Aurene, pampered from head to foot, stretched and yawned and laid her head down to sleep contentedly.

* * *

Damara wasn't able to stay in Tarir for long, but only a few weeks later, she was on the other side of Tyria, chasing down some Flame Legion bastards with Rhyoll, when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She looked, and saw... Aurene? But... like a ghost. She managed to keep herself from jumping, and when she looked again, the dragon was gone.

But a few minutes later, she was back, frisking around Damara and her red moa, Delia, while they were trying to keep undercover. "Aurene! Stay still, just for a minute!" Aurene vanished.

"What? What's going on?" Rhyoll asked.

"I thought I saw Aurene!"

Rhyoll scratched his black fuzzy head. "What's she doing out here?"

"I don't think she really was, but... There she is again! Aurene, can you wait, like, an hour? It's really distracting! I might get hurt!"

Aurene sat down in front of her, trilled, and disappeared.

"Okay, I hope she doesn't pop up again until we're done here. But I'd better get back to Tarir afterwards."

"Aww. I wish I could come meet her."

"You can come, why not?"

"I've got another job to do for Tribune Goreblade – he's been putting me to work ever since I got back from helping you chase down that Caudecus. Not that I mind, of course. It's been good to be home! Smell the oil and all."

"Yeah, I'll stick with the baby dragon," Damara said, peeking out to see if there were any Flame Legion nearby. "But you can come visit anytime."

* * *

When she arrived in Tarir, she found Annhilda had arrived before her. "Oh good, you're here. Apparently we've got work to do with Aurene?"

"Work!?" exclaimed Damara, aghast. "You can't put a toddler to work!"

"For now, Aurene is just an infant, forming her first pictures of the world around her," said the Luminate. "But make no mistake: she'll one day achieve great power. As her guardians, it's our duty to set her down the right path."

"Okay, but..." Damara thought. It really depended on the species. Baby moas, kittens, and puppies were blind and helpless for weeks after their birth, but once they opened their eyes, they could already be directed... even if that direction usually tended more towards 'house training' than 'save the world'. But human babies, they needed... well, more than a month or two before learning 'right' and 'wrong'! But she would admit, she was no expert on dragons, and the Exalted were trained by Glint. "Well, fine. What do we need to do?"

"A bond already exists between the three of you and Aurene," the Luminate said. "It is unfortunate the Sylvari Caoilfhionn could not be here, but the three of you should be sufficient. Our goal is to nurture and strengthen this bond. To that end, we've prepared a series of challenges meant to demonstrate virtues to the hatchling. In the chambers ahead, you will help the needy, defend the weak, and train Aurene for battle. In the final chamber waits the truest test of your bond: a foe that you can only defeat with Aurene's trust and help."

"That sounds pretty complicated," Damara said. "Is she really ready for this?"

"She'll be fine," the Luminate said confidently. "Just be patient with her. Aurene's at a... rambunctious age, and she sees everything as play. Step through the portal when you're ready."

She _bet_ Aurene saw everything as play! And she should be allowed to see it as play! Damara refrained from giving a loud, exasperated groan, but it was a near thing, even when she'd gone through the portal. "More trials?" she couldn't help saying, though. "Really?"

"Set in their ways, I guess," Annhilda said, sardonically. "Everything can be proven through trials, can't it?"

"Aurene?" Caithe called. "Aurene, are you here?"

Aurene came frisking out from behind a pillar. She grinned when she saw them all, wiggled her tail, and disappeared behind another pillar.

"Oh dear," Caithe said. "She wants to play hide-and-seek. Let us split up."

The trials were not challenging, thank goodness, and in fact, were pretty morally simplistic. Which Damara appreciated. Aurene didn't need to know the real world was agonizing shades of grey a lot of the time. For now, it was enough to know that helping others was good, whether it was to make their lives easier or to defend them in battle. Though even that rankled with her, a bit. Yes, Aurene was a dragon, not a person, and she had claws and teeth and scales and deadly breath, and she needed to know that they could hurt people should she choose to use them... but teaching a baby to fight still bothered her.

But Aurene seemed happy, just to be spending time with all her moms, and Damara resolved to try and visit more often if she could.


	47. Sassafrass

47\. Sassafrass

Annhilda snickered to herself. "Raven's with me today!"

"Is this really okay?" Damara said, fussing over her Norn friend's disguise as a big, brutish Son of Svanir. Annhilda had had to adapt her stolen armour a bit to hide her body type – female – including a big, bushy beard to cover her face.

"Of course!" Annhilda said. "I just _love_ it – the Svanir think they're the greatest people in Tyria, that they don't _need_ the Spirits, that women are weak and stupid, and watch this: one of those dreaded _women_ is just going to waltz in and pick up their secrets under their nose. Not so great after all!"

"Well, _obviously_ ," Phiadi said. "But to know how much you know, you have to know how little you know, and they don't even know that they're dumb."

"Truer words were never said," Annhilda said. "Do I look stupid enough yet?"

Damara giggled. "You look pretty burly. Let's hear you grunt."

"Ugh," Annhilda said, trying to sound deep and masculine. "Dragon is good. Women bad. Ugh."

"I really, really hope this works..." Damara said. "I mean, your acting is fine! You sound fine! But if anything goes wrong, you're going to have a really tough fight on your hands."

"I know. But I'll be careful. You two sit tight and keep watch; I'll shoot a flaming arrow if I need a distraction."

"I'll be more than ready," Phiadi said. "Go steal those bookahs' ears." Damara gave a thumbs-up, and Annhilda shouldered her battered axe and stomped off into the snow.

* * *

They caught up to Braham and Garm and Rox in a cave to the south of the Kodan ice ship, fighting off angry Svanir – as Damara had been afraid of when she heard the news from the quaggan. "Are you two okay?" she cried as they crashed through the back of the Svanir, smashing them between a rock and a hard place.

"Hey, guys!" Rox said. "We're all right, thanks. What brings you here?" Garm gave a happy bark and let Annhilda rub his head.

Braham grunted and slung his bow on his back. He was using a bow these days? Interesting. ...And then she saw it was Eir's bow. Now she was worried, especially when he began speaking. "Fine. Wonder what that was all about." She couldn't see his face under the heavy mask-helm he was wearing, but his voice was grim enough.

"Did you steal something from them?" Rox asked Braham, and he shrugged in confusion. "They kept calling you a thief."

Annhilda interjected with an apologetic look. "I'm afraid I have to take responsibility for that. I had to pose as a Svanir to get their thaw elixir recipe. They must have thought it was you for some reason."

"Probably because they don't want to believe they could possibly have been tricked by a _woman_ ," Phiadi said mockingly.

"You had to wh-?" Braham stopped midsentence and shrugged again. "Well, it's over now. Rox and I need to keep moving."

"Okay, let's go," Annhilda said, smoothly leading the way.

Braham stared at her for a moment longer before following. "Sure... Yeah, sure."

"It's good to see you," Damara said, trying to bring some warmth and friendliness back to the atmosphere. "How's the hunt for the scroll going?" There was supposed to be a scroll that would grant a weapon enough power to hurt Elder Dragons, which was pretty neat.

Braham huffed in impatient aggravation, his tread heavy. "Almost at its end. Or maybe a frustrating beginning. If it's not in this cave system, all my info was wrong and I'm back at square one. Did Taimi get my letter?" he asked abruptly. "I assume that's why you're here."

Damara nodded. "She did. It was quite a surprise after she learned that... Well, how much do you know about what's happening?"

"With Jormag? Plenty," Braham said.

"Well, that's not the only one," Phiadi told him and Rox. "Primordus is active, too."

"I heard," said Braham. "These dragons won't rest until we're dust."

"That's why we're here," Annhilda said. "Collecting research. Taimi has a plan..."

Braham nodded. "I do too. I find a way to kill all the Dragons or die trying."

Rox looked at him with a sympathetically furrowed brow. "That's a little extreme."

Braham glared at them through his mask. "Talk to me after _your_ mother gets taken out by one."

There was an awkward pause, and then Damara began to babble nervously. "Well, the Dragons aren't the only threats. A Mursaat, Lazarus, is back... and seems to have changed, but, you know, you never know... And the human minister, Caudecus, escaped custody and came out as the leader of the White Mantle. He's currently MIA."

Rox nodded. "Canach says it looks like he's making his way up to the Isles of Janthir."

Damara brightened. "Oh, you've heard from him? Good to know!" She was grateful to Rox for trying to respond to her.

And then Braham brought the mood down again with a pouty thud, stomping further down the tunnel. "Sounds like a bunch of trivial Human matters I don't care about."

Phiadi audibly rolled her eyes. "Well _excuse us_ for having a lot of work."

"It's not trivial to me..." Damara protested quietly. Why was he being such a jerk? Weren't they friends? Was he really that upset about Eir not being able to fight anymore that he would take it out on them? Or was there another reason?

Braham grunted angrily and stomped into a nest of spiders, and for a few minutes everyone was distracted with squashing. Damara's owl, Wiggins, soared silently through the melee and the arrows to slash spiders apart with his needle talons and razor beak, and for a minute Damara was afraid inside. Braham was definitely not being friendly today, and if he missed a spider and hit her owl – she'd shoot him back if he did! She almost called Wiggins back just for this fight, but tried to quiet her fears and let him fly. And Braham did not shoot him... though it seemed close, to her, a few times.

When the skittering had stopped, Annhilda turned to Braham, trying once more. "Braham... the reason we came to find you... I don't know if you heard, but we started a new guild. It'd be great to have you."

Braham lowered his head like a bull, shoulders hunched, voice harsh. "Didn't feel like joining Destiny's Edge and continuing their legacy, huh?"

Annhilda blinked in confusion. "Rytlock said... We decided that might be... might come across as disrespectful." Annhilda wasn't Eir. Phiadi wasn't Zojja. Damara wasn't Logan. Ohhh, no, she was not Logan at all, despite her experience with the Vigil and as a commander of the Pact. Logan was that rare breed of 'muscley dork who somehow managed to be cool too'.

Braham snorted. "Disrespectful? To keep the legend of my mother and the memory of Snaff going? You and I must have different notions of respect."

That stung deeply, all of them, and Annhilda spread her arms in confusion. "Braham, I'm sorry. This isn't the reaction I expected." Guilds reformed all the time. Why was he taking this so personally?

Braham's voice was more bitter and sarcastic than ever. "It's okay, Commander. Maybe it's for me to keep alive; another thing thrown on my pile of obligations now that I'm back home."

Rox's brow furrowed deeper. "Braham..."

Braham turned away and kept walking. "This scroll isn't going to find itself. Let's go."

Deep in the cave was a wide cavern with... strange magical things in it. Damara couldn't make heads or tails out of it, but she was with two smart people, so she trusted Annhilda and Phiadi to figure it out. She was more concerned with the strange minotaur-ish monster that was beginning to stir within an icy prison.

"The scroll!" Braham cried. "I'll take that, thanks!" He ran forward, and the monster broke free with a roar.

Everything happened so fast. "Braham, move!" Rox cried, and shoved him to the side – and was frozen solid by the monster's breath.

"By Grenth!" Damara exclaimed, loosing an arrow at the monster. "Stay out of that thing's way!"

"Watch out above!" Annhilda said, holding her shield up as the monster roared louder and charged with an earth-shaking tread, bringing bits of ice and rock down from the ceiling. Annhilda and she rolled out of the way, and the battle was on.

There was so much to keep track of, in that dark cavern – the monster, the ceiling, the other little monsters running around, her friends... Damara spent more of her time running than loosing arrows. The monster charged again, this time running down Annhilda and stampeding over her shield. Phiadi, who had been sheltering behind the Norn, barely had time to jump out of the way, and her minions were stumbling towards the beast in confusion.

A gleam caught Damara's eye – the scroll had been knocked to one side of the cave, and Braham, for all his impatience, had not managed to get to it and pick it up yet. "Wiggins, go, buddy! Braham! Incoming!" Wiggins swooped between falling icicles, snatching up the scroll in his claws, and carrying it over to Braham. An icicle struck his wing and he tumbled. "Wigg!"

Braham caught the scroll and retreated to open it. "For the night of the fire lives in my heart and in this bow. No chill with extinguish its light." His voice was raw with fury and determination. He nocked an arrow, drew, and loosed, and the beast stumbled, bright fire sparkling from the strike.

"That did it!" Damara cheered. "Keep it up!" And now her own arrows began to bite, as Braham's melted its icy armour.

Annhilda picked herself up, groaning. "I'll draw its attention. Take it down!"

"Its time has come," Phiadi said, brandishing her axe.

Braham growled – apparently they were being too upbeat for him – and loosed another arrow, striking it square between the eyes. The monster moaned, and fell heaving, triggering one last shower of icy shrapnel.

Damara rushed to pick up her owl, cradling her fluffy baby, pouring healing power into his broken wing. In a moment or two, he was alert again, healed enough to perch on her shoulder.

Rox, too, was free of her ice, coughing as she sat up and looking around. "What happened?"

"You were frozen," Phiadi told her.

Rox looked at her with an incredulous smile. "I was frozen? So weird. It was like a dream, and I was on the beach. You think it's be the opposite..."

"Well, we're glad you're back," Annhilda said, walking painfully up to her and putting down a healing ring on the ground, then extending her hand to Rox.

Rox took her hand and let her haul her to her feet, groaning and dusting herself off. "Did we get the scroll?"

Braham nodded, and for the first time he didn't sound completely pissed off. Just a little pissed off. "Sure did, Rox. Thanks."

Rox smiled. "And now?"

Braham tapped his bow before slinging it on his back. "This is similar to the scroll Asgeir used in his great victory, so now I test the bow on the tooth in the Great Hall. If I damage it, it's time to rally the Norn and lay Jormag to rest."

Annhilda stepped towards him, holding out her hands as if to stop him. "Braham, wait a minute. A direct assault on Jormag puts a lot of lives on the line. I think the Pact can tell you that may not be the best idea."

Braham growled. "The Pact _you_ commanded. Look, Jormag is _my_ problem, and I'll deal with it _my_ way – with or without you." He jabbed a finger at himself, then at Annhilda.

Annhilda crossed her arms. "Jormag isn't just _your_ \- You think leading the Pact didn't maybe teach me a thing or two? Look what happened to Rox when you rushed in and bashed something!" Rox shuffled in embarrassment.

Braham snarled, leaning forward like an angry dog, shouting back. "Oh, I forgot _your_ calculated plans always work out _perfectly_ , like when you posed as a Svanir to get some potion!"

Annhilda sighed, clearly taking her temper in both hands and lowering her voice. "Okay, okay. Can we back up? Taimi thinks there may be a way to pit Primordus and Jormag against each other without raising a single sword."

"Taimi thinks, huh?" Braham huffed and shrugged dismissively. "If the tooth chips we have hard proof."

"Hard proof of what?" Annhilda rejoined, her voice calm but her words cutting. "That you can battle a tooth?"

Braham's voice rose again, his body taut as a bowstring. "So only you get to decide when we take down a Dragon? Only you're allowed to kill them?"

"I most certainly did not say that."

"Well, figure out what you're saying, because that's what it sounds like."

Annhilda sighed again. "I'm only asking you to wait – maybe just a few days. See if Taimi can do this. There could be no need to put lives at risk."

"With every moment we wait, someone else's mother dies! I won't give Jormag a few days! I won't give Jormag a few minutes!" He clenched his fists and his voice cracked. "You don't _care_ , clearly!"

Annhilda's eyes snapped blue sparks. "You do not get to speak to me that way. I've been working just as hard as you, only I'm expected to care about the entire world, not just my own people-"

"You've _abandoned_ your people, you've abandoned Eir-" Braham interrupted her, talking over her, but Annhilda would not be talked over.

"-I need to factor in Human issues and Asura issues, I can't just do what _I_ want-"

"-Well it sure seems like you do!"

"After listening to everyone!"

"Listening doesn't kill dragons! We're past listening!"

"Situations change and I have to know about it-"

"Guys, please!" Rox begged. "We're all on the same side!"

"Are we?" Braham spat. "It's our fault Eir can't fight anymore!"

Was that what this was about? "It's not," Annhilda said quietly. "It's not your fault."

"Maybe if you'd been spending less time fussing over the Pact and more time looking for her, she wouldn't be stuck now! I'm not going to make that mistake again!"

Annhilda took a breath. "I grew up with the legend of the tooth, but I've also been out in the world and faced two of these things – one with you! You can't just run in without making a plan!"

Braham sputtered. "You think I... You know what, _Commander_? I'm _glad_ you didn't join Destiny's Edge. My mother wouldn't want you there. I'm going back to Hoelbrak. Garm! To me!" Garm whimpered, but followed Braham as he stormed out the way they had come.

Rox looked back and forth between them uncomfortably in the sudden absolute un-echoing silence, broken only by Braham's retreating, crunching footsteps and Garm's soft pad. When Braham and Garm had disappeared around a bend in the cave, she looked back at Annhilda. "...So..."

"Go ahead," Annhilda said, tired but without resentment. "He certainly doesn't want to be around me right now. Any of us, maybe."

Rox lowered her voice and leaned closer. "Do you think... he'll do it?"

Annhilda shrugged. "I hope cooler heads prevail. He has to see this isn't the way to go, not when we have options, and we still have time."

Rox nodded. "I'm sorry. He's... not been taking any of this well."

"He's a young pup still, has a lot of growing up to do. But you don't have to apologize, Rox." Annhilda offered a small smile.

"Well... okay. I hope you guys find the answers you're looking for. And thanks for helping us fight the thing." Rox waved, then dropped to all fours and ran after Braham as Damara and Annhilda waved back.

Phiadi watched her go, and then a few minutes later said: "...Braham never was good at arithmetic, was he." She sounded angry, too.

Annhilda sighed. "I can sympathize. Eir is crushed by her disability, and it's painful to see her struggle with her body and her feelings. He thinks that the only way to make her happy again is to give her his legend, as if she was still fighting through him."

"But he was so mean, and we just want to help. It's like we're not even friends anymore," Damara said, almost wailing. She felt tears in the back of her eyes. Braham's feelings... hurt, a lot.

"Injured people can be like that," Annhilda said. "We will have to be patient. Which is easier when he's not present and slinging venom, I'll grant you..."

"I can't understand why he would ignore Taimi's results in favour of fables and some kind of... revenge," Phiadi said. "I thought he was fond of Taimi. And she hasn't been wrong... much... yet."

"Yeah, but he thinks she's a kid," Damara said. "And he's never been in the Vigil. I used to think like him, a bit, I think. But I learned. Sometimes you have to wait a little and lose a few more soldiers earlier, in order to achieve victory in the engagement. You know? Like, you can't spring an ambush early."

"Well, you don't have to try to convince _me_ about it," Phiadi said. "It's stupid he won't just go talk to her and let her tell him what a bookah he's being."

"Pride," Annhilda said. "And guilt. I know. He should. I can't imagine she would agree with anything he just said. But until he goes with open ears and closed mouth of his own accord, we can't force him into it. And it's going to take a while now that he's got that scroll."

Phiadi grinned a sharp-toothed grin. "Then we'll just have to be faster."

"I hope he'll be okay," Damara said, still hurting from his words and for his unhappiness. "I'm glad Rox is there to help."

* * *

Breaking into Caudecus's mansion from the back was pretty exciting, but wow it was horrifying to Damara to see the White Mantle just... hanging around, in the heart of Kryta, with all their magical construct doohickies and their uniforms. Like, what was subtlety? Sure, they were in the caves and tunnels under the mansion, out of sight of all normal people, but how did they get there without people seeing them? Wasn't it inconvenient? She wondered whether the others with her, Annhilda, Phiadi, Rhyoll, Demmi Beetlestone, and Countess Anise were having similar thoughts... probably not. They seemed focused on more important things.

And it was sickening to come across an impromptu torture chamber, covered in blood and full of Shining Blade bodies, and White Mantle, one of them ranting feverishly. "All must confess! Be freed of the burden of your secrets before we free you of your life!"

There was a defiant shout that made her heart race with hope. "Thank you, but I'll show myself out!" Canach had torn free of the Mantle who held him, seizing a sword and stabbing his guards.

"Canach!" Damara cried, alarmed at how close he'd been to death, or at least harm. "Are you all right?" She shot the man sneaking up on him.

Canach inclined his head to her briefly as he took a ready stance, watching the Mantle around him. "Hello, Damara. If you and your friends would be so kind as to help me kill the rest of these cretins."

"You got it!" she said, but was immediately forced to duck as a spell came crackling over her head and struck the wall behind her with a shower of sparks.

The Mantle Inquisitor guy cackled theatrically. "Excellent! More have come to confess! Get them, but save their dying whispers for my ear!"

"What a B-list holo-villain," Phiadi said. "I've got some dying whispers right here for you!" She sent her minions scampering forward, following them with a curse.

The White Mantle had been prepared for the Shining Blade, but they had not been prepared for a guild of heroes, even with their smuggled jade constructs and things. After all, Dragon's Watch knew how to deal with those constructs now. Annhilda called a couple orders, focusing their fire, and methodically they took down their frothing opponents.

Demmi Beetlestone looked around at all the bodies, now equally of Shining Blade and White Mantle, panting. "That all of them? Looks clear..."

Canach straightened from his combat stance, dropping his borrowed blade carelessly on the ground. "Good to see you, Dragon's Watch. Hopefully we can finally finish this and I can be out from under that _horrible_ woman's thumb." He turned his gaze an inch to the right. "Oh, hi, Anise. I didn't see you standing completely within my line of sight."

Damara almost actually choked on suppressing a giggle, but Anise rolled her eyes. "To think I almost missed you."

Canach shrugged and headed for a pile of gear on the side of the cave, digging through it to find his own wooden armour and his whipsword and moon shield. Demmi followed him. "Have you seen my father – Caudecus?"

Canach looked up from pulling on his big spiky pauldrons. "Brutish man with aggressively unsettling facial hair? Yes. He seemed upset that he wasn't on the Krytan throne... to the extent that he was – Is he _really_ your father? I'm so sorry."

Demmi wrung her hands. "What was he doing?"

Canach finished dressing in his armour and gave her a sympathetic grimace. "Well... he was consuming bloodstone his lackeys gathered from the explosion. He might be unrecognizable to you, my dear."

"I stopped recognizing him as my father long ago," Demmi said, with an angry breath. "We should move before he turns his scorn towards civilians. He'd rather see Kryta burn than not rule it."

"We'll stop him," Damara said to her. "He won't get either of those things."

"I know," Demmi said. "I'm glad you're here."

* * *

Caudecus had almost escaped, but for a fatal mistake – shooting Demmi, in his madness, had turned Valette against him, and she had helped them access the portal in the fireplace through which he'd escaped. And now their group simply stood and stared at the horror that awaited them.

Anise broke the silence first. "Are you kidding me? The ego on this man."

Valette winced. "This is his 'inner sanctum'. Every time he came back from here, he was slightly more unbalanced." They were standing in an apparently-doorless circular chamber, surrounded by gigantic sculptures of Caudecus's old wrinkly face. They were really disturbing, and it took Damara a minute to figure out why – they weren't sculptures that pushed inwards into the room, but reliefs that delved outwards – like the backside of a mask, but horribly detailed. Damara leaned back and forth, confused by the lighting, trying to help her eyes make sense of what they were seeing.

Canach looked at her. "How do you think the conversation with the sculptor went when he ordered these? 'I need at least six reliefs of my face. No, no, bigger. Like, _eight_ feet tall. Something that really captures my essence: a catastrophically misguided, swagger-sodden plague sore.'"

Damara had been trying really hard not to react – Demmi was mortally wounded upstairs! - but she broke down halfway, ducking her head and pressing her mouth against her shoulder to smother her giggles. Ugh! He just _knew_ she'd be the one to laugh at whatever he said, she was certain of it.

"Hang on, he's got _riddles_ ," Annhilda said, peering at the pedestals around the room, trying to figure out how to move forward. "Raven help me, they're nonsensical riddles – whoops!"

"And the room spins," Canach said acidly. "He somehow managed to make this place sickening in more ways than one."

"How much craftsmanship did he waste on this?" Rhyoll asked as the walls began to slow from their manic merry-go-round whirl.

"Welcome to 'rich Humans'," Canach said. "Wasting their money on their vanity is everything, because what else are they going to do with it?"

"It just doesn't seem like it would help him rule the world," Rhyoll said. "Think I could blow up a wall instead of waiting for riddles?"

"I've got it, cool your steam engines," Annhilda said, and a door slid open at one side of the room.

A horrible behemoth was within the next chamber, thrashing and chomping on bloodstone. "You did this to me! You ruined everything!" it howled.

Canach raised his eyebrows. "Uh... So, he's slightly larger and _more_ unhinged than our last encounter..."

Even Anise looked disturbed, and she'd been more or less unflappable to this point. "Gods! Canach, let's end this lunacy."

"My pleasure," Canach said with a tight grin. "Given due process by the Krytan throne, you are hereby sentenced to... oh, forget it. Let's just kill him." Damara laughed. There was always time to mock Human formality.

"You're coming with me!" raged the creature as they charged at it, swords drawn.

* * *

Their mission was accomplished – Caudecus was dead – but there was more to do. Canach was free, and Valette would be Anise's new community service ward... but Demmi was dead, too badly wounded for magic to stabilize her. And they still had to figure out if Caudecus had anything on Lazarus.

Canach joined them as they headed upstairs. "I was going to leave... but I'm _dying_ to see his room after the splendour that was his private dungeon."

Damara shivered. "Ugh. _Normal_ nobles are said to have eccentric private lives. _I'm_ not looking forward to this."

"Humans in general have such an odd culture," Phiadi said. "Though in some respects it's not too far off what we do in Rata Sum... I mean, we also seem to hand out power to those least suited to wielding it. They at least pretend to dedicate their lives to science, though."

"All of you are mad," Rhyoll said, jokingly. "Only the Charr have any sense."

"You know what? In many respects, I'll give that to you," Damara said. "Although I'm not sure I'd call those massive warmachines 'sensible'."

"Hahaha, I'd call them 'awesome', myself!"

"Think I get to kick in another door?" Annhilda said, as they came to the top of the stairs where Valette had directed them.

She did, and they ventured in carefully. Canach turned to their left and began to laugh. "Oh, Minister Beetlestone, you did not disappoint. Why on Tyria do you think he has a painting of Captain Thackeray in here?"

Damara stammered. "That's... Maybe because... If he thought..."

Rhyoll laughed louder. "You know what? We should probably never tell Logan about this."

Canach nodded. "Agreed. That man's been through enough. And this would probably scar him worse than being stuffed in a blighting pod."

They spread out and went through the rest of the room. While it was largely filled with just a nobleman's collection of eccentric art – including a mirror _over the bed_ – there was a diary, and a definite object of magical import, a small chest that Damara dared not open. Phiadi took charge of it, to hand off to a Shining Blade.

Room ransacked after an hour, they went down to the garden for some fresh air and a look at the sky – slightly cloudy, chance of rain in a bit. Annhilda and Phiadi still had to talk with the Shining Blade, and Rhyoll sat on the doorstep under the arches, resting his leg, but Damara wandered down to the fountain, and Canach followed her.

"Hey, thanks for fighting with us again," she said. "Or... well... I guess you were there first."

"Yes, I should be thanking all of you for coming when you did. You distracted them enough I could get a sword into my hand."

"Glad we did! I'd hate to think those creeps could get the better of you."

He shrugged and breathed deeply of the warm Krytan air. "Well, I'm off, then," he said. "Your adventures have been fun, but it's time for broader horizons."

"So... no Dragon's Watch in your future?" Damara asked, hinting-wise. "You've worked so much with us, you're practically part of the group already."

Canach shook his head resolutely. "Regretfully... I've been under someone's yoke for too long. It's high time I walk as my own Sylvari for a while."

Damara smiled. "Okay. Thanks for everything, Canach. You've been a good friend and it's been really good to work with you some more."

Canach snorted, looking away from her. "Oh, don't start weeping about it. I'm sure our paths will cross again."

"I hope so!" She leaned in and gave him a quick hug. "I know you'll enjoy your freedom, so... take care!"

He looked startled, and settled for patting her on the shoulder as she stepped back. "I certainly will. And you too."

* * *

Lazarus was Balthazar.

No. Lazarus wasn't involved at all, if he even still existed. Balthazar was Balthazar, disguising himself until Kasmeer and Taimi had jury-rigged a solution to break his glamour.

What did that mean? The non-Humans in the guild had been alarmed and confused, but she knew Marjory and Kasmeer were reeling as much as she was, if not more. She was sitting in a corner of the Rata Novus lab, hugging Velvet, her patient jungle stalker, trying, _trying_ her hardest to wrap her brain and her heart around it. It didn't make sense. Why would Balthazar return when the other gods were silent? Why would he disguise himself? Why was he trying to kill the dragons?

She could hear Phiadi in the background, finally giving Phlunt a clapback over the secret dragon lab. She could hear Annhilda talking with Marjory, trying to figure out where to go next. She could hear Wegaff bossing around researchers, trying to clean up the massive mess of broken glass they'd made in breaking the illusion.

She was never good at being devout, except to Melandru whom she related to; she offered prayers to the others when appropriate, but Melandru was her guide. Still, this was a _god_ and he had... not wiped them all out instantly. The god of _war_ had tried to hide himself and couldn't kill them. But it was really him. She felt it. She was so confused...

What was he doing now? And was she going to stop him?


	48. Cracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple chapters to transition from LW3 to PoF; they are a mess but Trahearne is also a mess so I guess it works thematically lol
> 
> Caoilfhionn's been listening to Enya again, and also to a bunch of Christopher Tin pieces - [Baba Yetu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJiHDmyhE1A) obviously, but also [Iza Ngomso](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKFMHU5RIjE) and [Sogno di Volare](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQYN2P3E06s) and random others. Trahearne... has not.

48: Cracks

He was warm, and naked, and relaxed, and was wrapped around something smooth and slowly breathing, and they were both wrapped up in thick fleshy leaves. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, and was surprised and pleased to find they both worked – though his left eye was blurry, like he'd gotten water in it. Before him, under his nose, were familiar green leaves shot with magenta luminescence, softly lit by diffuse dark green light soaking through the seedpod's walls. Just over his head, the pod was slowly peeling open, and he could see a gentle blue sky that suggested it was late afternoon.

Trahearne stirred in his arms, and he pressed a kiss to his temple. "Hello, beloved."

"Caoilfhionn." Trahearne's voice was deep and rumbly with sleep, and Caoilfhionn fought back a shiver. "We're... home...?"

"Yes, we are," Caoilfhionn said. "How do you feel?"

"I'm alive," Trahearne said incredulously. "I don't know how you did it, but you did..." He had been curled up around himself, having been placed into the seedpod first, but he reached up with his left arm and wrapped it around Caoilfhionn, holding him close. His right arm, Caoilfhionn found, was still not full-grown yet. "I'm eternally grateful."

"I said I would," Caoilfhionn said, smug in the security of hindsight, and twisted around to kiss him as best he might in the cramped space. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but he had not shared a proper kiss with his love in so long! It was worth it, and he wanted to swoon as their lips joined, though there wasn't the space to. Trahearne sighed against him and in response his own embrace tightened.

As they shifted, the pod began to split open. Caoilfhionn broke off rather unwillingly and looked up to the open sky once again. Pretty soon the whole pod was going to pop open and deposit them unceremoniously on a branch, so they might as well get out with what dignity they could. "Shall we?" Though he was distracted by Trahearne taking advantage of his glance upwards to kiss his throat, eliciting a moan. "Ah, we really ought to-"

It was a bit awkward, when he hadn't used his body in... some unknown period of time, to clamber out around Trahearne, then turn to give him a hand as well. Trahearne stood with creaky, stiff arms and legs, but his body was no longer corrupted and hardened. His leafy skin was a little rougher in those places, a change felt rather than seen, and his regrowing arm looked strange, almost skeletal. But visually he looked nearly good as new, with vibrant dark green skin and yellow eyes just as he ever had, and Caoilfhionn stared at him adoringly.

"That bad, huh?" Trahearne asked as he caught his gaze. Caoilfhionn felt his luminescence flush, though now in the sunlight it would be impossible to see.

"No! No. You're beautiful."

Trahearne looked away with embarrassment. "That you can still say such things..."

They were interrupted by a hail. "Firstborn! Valiant!" They turned, still holding hands, to see Mender Serimon himself making his way towards them, with a couple assistants. "Glad I am to see you awake once more."

"How long did we sleep?" Trahearne. "When was Mordremoth defeated?"

"Nigh on nine months," Serimon said. "How do you feel? I'd like to check you over, if you would permit it. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Clothes?" Caoilfhionn asked, smiling. "Send word to Blathnat, if you would."

"And news," Trahearne said. "I know the world will not have been sitting still after Mordremoth's death."

"You're quite right," Serimon said, his assistants giving them both a hand to descend the Tree. "But I think it would be good for you to remain here a few days more to get your bearings before getting involved. Especially you, Trahearne."

"Mm." Trahearne grimaced and glanced at his right arm. "Well, they've been doing all right without us, they can survive a little longer."

Caoilfhionn laughed, partly amused by Trahearne's cavalier attitude, partly simply for the delight of laughing. "I'm glad you're back."

* * *

Trahearne's arm needed more than a few days to come to full maturity. Physically in all other respects, he was fine, but Mender Serimon cautioned him against trying to engage in combat before it was ready, to avoid having to keep relearning his body. Trahearne acquiesced and did not at all seem opposed to living without responsibilities for a while longer, which pleased Caoilfhionn.

They stayed in Trahearne's hut in the domestic area, a corner of a small cave-tunnel that led to a west-facing balcony on the outer edge of the Grove. He had not stayed there much over the years, occupied as he was with traveling and with Orr, but it was his own, and it was a good retreat now. Trahearne asked Cathaoir to come guard the entrance, though, to screen visitors; he didn't feel like speaking to many people all at once yet. And the visitors mostly understood. They were only really visited at first by Eithne and Blathnat, and Malomedies and Dagonet, and of course Mender Serimon.

They were able to spend much time alone together, too, and though Caoilfhionn wanted to get out and about more, he was blissfully happy to be able to hold his love safe and sound at last, to lie beside him in comfortable repose, to look out over the balcony with him, smelling the wind, to take his face in his hands and plant kisses all over it, running his thumbs over the thicker bark strips. And Trahearne returned his smiles, his embraces, his kisses, with a kind of disbelieving adoration that thrilled him even as he sought to make him believe it.

And he was just happy to be back home, after so much time spent away, to learn anew its winding ways, its spilling flowers, the brightly coloured birds that cried and flew through the open spaces. There was time now to see and appreciate the little things, not presently having to run through on one urgent mission or another. Mordremoth was dead, and the Sylvari were making the most of their new collective life, and the world went on day by day in its beauty and sorrow and joy. He felt brand new again. Which was most welcome after the weariness that fighting Mordremoth had wrought upon him. He tried not to think about those times, throwing himself into the present instead.

Caithe came to visit soon after they came to their new home, and she brought news and more news: of the guild becoming Dragon's Watch – Caoilfhionn huffed for a few minutes but quickly accepted it – of Aurene's birth, of Caudecus's death. And she brought a message from General Almorra. "Do you wish to return to your position as Marshal?"

Trahearne thought in silence for a long moment. "No. Even if I am ever fit to serve again, my time as Marshal is over. My mistakes cost us all too much. And I... I don't think I am capable of doing what I did then. Not anymore."

Caithe nodded. "I thought you'd refuse. So did Annhilda. I'm glad, personally."

"Glad?" Trahearne frowned.

"You did well in it," Caithe said. "You were admirable, a shining example to Tyria. The best you could be. But I know you were always happiest in research."

Trahearne relaxed again. "Yes. That is true. Though... now that my horizons have been expanded... well. I must get better first."

Physically, Caoilfhionn was a little better off than his love. His leaves had grown back, just as lush as before, and his scars from where Mordremoth had torn at his flesh were nearly completely grown over. Though Trahearne still paused at them when he ran his hands over his body... But his left eye was not nearly as strong as it had been, and it took some time to find a jeweler who was experienced in making eye-glasses, which he'd seen with some frequency on Humans and Asura but only very rarely on his own people.

He was a little anxious when he first put them on. To be sure, it was marvelous, to be able to see as well as he used to, clear and detailed. But – wouldn't he look funny, with these round silver things on his face? "How do I look?"

"Looks great," said the Human jeweler. "Do you not like them?"

Trahearne smiled. "Can you see?"

"I can see very well now. But does it look strange?"

"You're beautiful," Trahearne said to him soothingly, and his expression told Caoilfhionn that his opinion was true, far from being a white lie. Caoilfhionn grinned at him and was rewarded by a smile in turn.

"Then I am content. Thank you, sir."

And now he, at least, could begin to get back into elementalism without worrying that his sight would betray him and accidentally send a fireball to places it wasn't supposed to go. Trahearne watched him on the practice field – actually, many people watched him on the practice field, his fighting style was different from most other elementalists with his sword in his hand.

"That's different," Trahearne said, the first time he saw it. "You never fought with a sword before."

Caoilfhionn looked down at his long curved blade. "Malyck bore it. I came across him in the Heart of Maguuma... He... is gone now. But I will carry his memory with me always."

Trahearne put a hand on his shoulder, silently sympathetic to his lingering grief. "...I remember Malyck," he said softly after a while. "I wish things had been different."

"Thank you. But yes." Caoilfhionn raised his head and managed to smile again; it was easier when he could see Trahearne's thoughtful eyes. "I have found my skills moved in new and interesting ways by this weapon. I would like to study it properly now that I have the time."

"May I help?"

"Of course!" Even had he not already wished Trahearne to be more involved in his life, he was not going to turn down the offer of nearly thirty years of magical experience!

* * *

Those idyllic autumn days passed swiftly, and they delighted in each other's company as they had not been able to do in the waking world for a year, yet there was something between them, Caoilfhionn felt. But he could not detect what it was, only that Trahearne seemed still withdrawn and dark when his attention was not inclined towards Caoilfhionn, and he slept ill. So he cherished the times when the darkness was not there, when he could hold Trahearne's wounded heart in his hands and breathe life into it with his unfailing love.

But it only got worse, not better, and rapidly, after those first couple weeks. Trahearne's temper was short, much more than usual, and as the days passed he spent more and more time brooding. He pulled back from Caoilfhionn, from the embraces, from the kisses, from making love, even from conversation, and Caoilfhionn's heart bled, for what else could he offer?

"What's wrong?" Caoilfhionn asked eventually, softly.

"Nothing," Trahearne said, yet there was unwonted irritation in his voice. He gentled voice and gaze with an effort. "Sorry. I am... fine."

He thought it would pass, then, Caoilfhionn reasoned, and nodded mildly and dropped the subject.

But it did not pass. The only time he could hold Trahearne now with all his love was when he writhed in nightmares, waking soaked in sweat and tears, helpless against Caoilfhionn's arms. Caoilfhionn's own dreams seemed unimportant in comparison to whatever horrors Trahearne was reliving; he dreamed of searching, always searching, never finding – or sometimes finding a vine-riddled body. Trahearne would not speak of what he saw, only burying his face in Caoilfhionn's shoulder, and he cursed Mordremoth in his head for reducing the greatest of the Sylvari to this.

He didn't know what was going on. He would have given his own arm to take away Trahearne's suffering now – why could it not be over? It controlled every part of his life and Caoilfhionn was helpless to break him free.

* * *

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked another time, during the daylight.

"What do you mean?" Trahearne asked sharply.

Caoilfhionn dithered for a moment. Trahearne was sensitive to his current weakness. "Only that... you seemed... out of sorts, often, and I wish to make you happy."

Trahearne looked away almost guiltily. "Are you happy?"

"I'm always happy to be with you. But I'd be happier if I could make you happy."

"Don't worry so much about me," Trahearne said quietly. "Just be as happy as you can. I like when you are."

"All right," Caoilfhionn said in confusion.

But Trahearne would not previously have lost control of his temper in the little places he now did – even going so far as to shout angrily at Mender Serimon over being told not to over-exercise his new limb, for instance. Trahearne had been infallibly courteous and noble, even when he was furious. The iciness of his former anger had dissolved into an unpredictable maelstrom, striking at unexpected times. Trahearne was not happy like this, hated how he could not control himself, hated that he hurt everyone around him when he lashed out. He hadn't said so in words, but it was obvious!

And the more it happened, the more he brooded and the less he spoke of facing life at Caoilfhionn's side. The space between them widened and he could not bridge it, not with all his love and patience and hope. "Why am I still alive?" his love whispered when he thought Caoilfhionn wasn't listening, and his tone was not that of wonder.

Days passed, the visitors dwindled even from the small number they had been before, and Caoilfhionn went out into the Grove alone now. And it was becoming more difficult for him, too, not to be weighed down by his own memories, everything he'd gone through, all the trials and failures he bore. But he tried to swallow them, for Trahearne needed him to be strong. Trahearne had been strong for him, always but especially when it mattered most. He needed to return it now.

He knew it was time to confront it when Trahearne raised his voice to Blathnat, who might have been a teasing and prideful person but who had never hurt anyone a day in her life, and she fled – to cry, Caoilfhionn was sure. Trahearne went out to the balcony and sat on the bench in a miserable huddle, and Caoilfhionn stayed inside, trying to control his breathing, of distress and defensive anger and worried grief. That couldn't be Trahearne's fault. Getting upset at him would only make things worse.

After about half an hour, he went out to the balcony and knelt on one knee next to Trahearne's seat, waiting patiently for him to talk about it.

"...You should have let me die," Trahearne said after an interminable period of staring into the distance. He was no longer huddled tightly, but his body was... collapsed, in an upright position. Hopeless. Despairing.

"Forgive me," Caoilfhionn whispered. "I am the most selfish."

"I'm broken," Trahearne rasped. "My mind is not entirely my own. Mordremoth may be dead but you should have killed me along with him."

Caoilfhionn had to breathe before he answered. "I couldn't. I need you."

"Is that why you manipulated me into living?" Trahearne said sharply. Then, even as Caoilfhionn inhaled with hurt, turned his head away with a half-sob. "No, no. I cannot blame you. But who I was is already dead. I am not that man anymore."

Caoilfhionn waited. He didn't know what to say. Perhaps he had coerced Trahearne, gambling his life against Trahearne's love, that was one point of view. He was selfish, through and through. But he couldn't help it.

"You should go," Trahearne said softly. "Go live your life. I am only an anchor holding you back."

Instead of leaving, Caoilfhionn rose and sat on the bench next to Trahearne. "I don't want to. Please talk to me. I'll not be put off until you do."

Trahearne turned his face away, and Caoilfhionn heard him swallow. "Stop."

"No. Talk to me, beloved. Please." He put his hand next to Trahearne's, almost touching but not quite.

Trahearne took his hand and gripped it tightly, and slowly, the words began to come. "I... can't find myself. I am... impatient. Angry. And I can't seem to stop myself. It was easy, before, to control myself, to consider... the people around me. Now it's almost... impossible. Something is missing, broken, ripped away from me. I keep hurting everyone and... I don't know why."

Caoilfhionn squeezed his hand and kept listening.

"And I am... useless to everyone now... I cannot fight, with my arm like this, and while I may again eventually... I cannot focus. I cannot focus or control myself and so I cannot trust myself. If I were to seclude myself, perhaps I could... I could at least be certain I wouldn't hurt anyone, yet... I think I would go mad. I have too much time to think and yet what else can I do right now? But more than that... I... know Mordremoth... is dead. Yet... I still hear... an... an echo." Trahearne's voice was almost inaudible, shaking... scared. "It's not him. But it calls to me still."

Caoilfhionn climbed into Trahearne's lap and took his face in his hands. "I understand-"

"No, you don't," Trahearne cut him off, worry and anger sparking in his eyes. "How could you?"

"I understand because my love is yours and your love is mine," Caoilfhionn retorted gently, unafraid. "At the very least, I understand why you've been pushing me away. So tell me now: what can I do? Have I been trying too hard? I will give you all the space you need to rediscover yourself but you are not and will never be alone. So stop trying to run from me."

"You should not waste yourself on me. I'm trying to be strong for you but I _can't_ and I am ashamed to take your pity for my weakness."

"Love is not pity." Caoilfhionn squeezed his face a little, making him look up at him. "Do you want me to be angry at you?"

"Perhaps..."

He wasn't giving him any excuses like that. "I don't care how long it takes, how many failures we must endure. If our positions were reversed, would you give up on me?"

"No," Trahearne said, almost indignantly. "But you are light and life and joy. I am-"

"And so are you to me," Caoilfhionn said. "Oh my scholar, I did not go through hell and back to abandon you just because you are wounded in ways no one understands. I know you are still in pain and you struggle daily. But let me help. You cannot leave me here alone. I know I am the most selfish person in the world but I love you and I will help you live again."

Trahearne was silent, staring at him.

"Do you hear me?" Caoilfhionn asked softly.

Trahearne's arms closed about him and held him close. "I hear you."

Caoilfhionn smiled, and his sap ran fast. "Then let us be patient together. You're too young to write yourself off forever."

Trahearne snorted, a snort that turned into a proper laugh. "I am, am I not? But what are you, five summers?"

"Four and a half," Caoilfhionn said, soul flying on that laugh. Trahearne pulled him in and kissed him and he felt as breathless as his first kiss, for he felt the soul in his arms begin to lift from despair again – at least momentarily distracted by the hope he carried bare in his own.


	49. New Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trahearne's been listening to more Aviators songs, although none of them quite fit, not like [Let There Be Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH0ewuSL4gs) fit him during the Orr campaign. But there's [No One Will Save You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqdyyxdZ4cQ), [Monumental](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N64npSayEzg), and [When Our Bodies Wash Ashore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrcD0SS022w) for starters. Thanks Tharash for reminding me this music existed!
> 
> I forget how much I talked about Damara's backstory previously so I hope I haven't contradicted myself much XD

49: New Horizons

"Are you sure I'm allowed to be here?" Damara whispered, looking at the gigantic looming statue. "Hey, didn't we see a statue like this in that underwater temple thing on Orr?"

"Yeah, exactly," Annhilda said, striding into the foyer of Special Collections under the Priory. "Do you remember who it was?"

"Abbadon," Damara said. "...How did the Priory get such a big statue of a god erased from history?"

"That's what the Priory does," Annhilda said, smiling. "We find the lost and forgotten, and preserve it. Do you remember why he was erased from history?"

"Uh... I know Kormir replaced him. I imagine you want to tell me the rest of the story, though I don't see why you had to sneak me into the Priory... Seriously, I don't want Gixx to yell at us."

"Gixx won't yell at us," Annhilda said confidently. "He's too busy. And if he does... Do you know how many times our friend Sieran got yelled at? It's not a big deal. Ogden will find it hilarious, if anything. The person you have to watch out for is Archivist Ernswort. And she's further in. Just stop fidgeting and no one will care."

Damara sighed. "Okay. So, the story?"

"Abbadon was once great among the gods," Annhilda said, her tone shifting to a poetic one, like a skaald – not that Damara had really had the chance to hear skaalds a lot. "He granted magic to Humans. But power brought strife, and the other gods intervened to try to bring peace. Abbadon tried to protect his followers, and brought war even to the gods. So the gods cast him out and bound him in the Realm of Torment. But still he tried to break free, until about two hundred fifty years ago Spearmarshal Kormir and her companions destroyed his fallen remnants, and she took his power to become the Goddess of Truth."

"Okay, that all sounds vaguely familiar," Damara said, still staring at the disturbing, six-eyed statue. "And why did you bring me all this way to tell me about it?"

"What do you see when you look at this statue?" Annhilda asked.

Damara frowned. "Um... Well, he was a god, when this statue was made, so I guess... a god?"

"Yes. But he isn't one now, is he?"

Damara gave Annhilda an arch look. "You're trying to say something about Balthazar, aren't you."

"Took you long enough," Annhilda said, teasing, then sobered. "I don't mean to mock your gods. But given what we saw what he was doing inside Draconis Mons, what he said there, I think the likelihood is high that we're not dealing with a proper member of the Six. Not anymore."

"Yeah, he was not friendly at all," Damara said. "So... we should start thinking about who's going to replace him. I hope it's not me, I have no affinity for war or fire. I'm a Melandru girl!"

"Well, I don't think it's going to be Marjory or Kasmeer either," Annhilda said, "and they're the only other humans in our group. But that's fine – I'd hate to lose any of you."

Damara suddenly giggled. "You know who would make a good god of war? Rytlock."

Annhilda laughed loudly, causing a chorus of shushings to come from further in the archives. "He's not even Human! You're not wrong, though."

Damara looked up at the statue one more time. "Well. He _is_ doing whatever he wants without any apparent care for Humanity. Or even the world. He probably wouldn't even listen to the other gods long enough to slow down. And _we_ have to stop him?"

"Unfortunately. We can't let him kill the Dragons." Annhilda breathed out a noisy sigh. "Just when we were getting good at that, too."

"That's a joke, right? We barely got Mordremoth."

"Yes, that's a joke. Come on, let's see if Seimur's around to make fun of."

* * *

Caoilfhionn was in Astorea, helping saplings with their first curious steps outside the Grove, when he was hailed unexpectedly from down the road. "Cauliflower!"

"Wegaff!" Caoilfhionn exclaimed, delighted. "How are you? It's been so long!"

"You look a lot better," Wegaff said. " _What_ are you doing with your flux fields?"

"Er..." Caoilfhionn looked at his sword. "I'm not sure yet. But it appears to be working."

"Fascinating..." Wegaff began, then shook himself. "No, no, no! Time for that later. I wanted to see if you were up for hearing vitally important news about the fate of the world."

Caoilfhionn perked up – and caught himself. "Well... _I_ am." He glanced over at Trahearne, who was sitting by himself, trying to blend into the background and remain anonymous. "How worrisome is this news?"

"Very," Wegaff said. "Do you want it or not?"

Caoilfhionn still hesitated... then took the plunge. He could always decide not to tell Trahearne and preserve him from it a while longer. Or maybe it would distract Trahearne from his ongoing problems. "Tell me."

"Okay, do you remember when I theorized to you that killing the Elder Dragons wasn't the right thing to do?"

"Vaguely," Caoilfhionn said. "I think I was a bit distracted at the time."

"Possibly. We were going into your mysterious cave after Caithe and the dragon egg. Well, it turns out that I was right."

"In what way?" Caoilfhionn sat down on the grass and got comfortable.

"The Eternal Alchemy really is a giant machine, as you saw it, with Tyria and the Dragons – and having killed two, we've thrown the machine out of synchronization. Killing any more could destroy the whole machine – that is, the world. Taimi found a new source of data that confirms it."

Caoilfhionn blinked. "That's... unfortunate. But what were we supposed to do?" If they had not killed Zhaitan, Lion's Arch would be assaulted by the Risen until it fell. If they had not killed Mordremoth, the Sylvari would be eternally under the threat of slavery – especially Trahearne.

"We haven't figured that part out yet," Wegaff said. "Right now, Dragon's Watch is still working on identifying the problem, let alone the solution. Which is complicated by Balthazar sticking his spoke in."

"Balthazar? What would a Human god want with a Dragon?"

Wegaff explained, in detail, and at length, and Caoilfhionn took some time to mull over what his friend had said. "So... Balthazar wants the power of Dragons, but removing any more Dragons could destroy the entire world. What does that mean for us?"

"It means we gotta stop him while he's still weak enough to be hurt, to put it bluntly," Wegaff said. "And he's only got two choices. Primordus and Jormag are out of reach right now, so it's either going to be Kralkatorrik or the ocean Dragon. And according to my calculations, Kralkatorrik is the most likely target. So: I'm going recommend Dragon's Watch expedite themselves to Elona to make sure the two of them never meet, one way or another."

"Will you be coming?" Caoilfhionn asked. "Er. Going. I haven't said I'm going yet. I'll have to talk with Trahearne."

"Why, what's his problem?" Wegaff said bluntly, and Caoilfhionn restrained an eyeroll. "Yes, I'm strongly considering it. How am I going to figure out how to tell you how to beat this strange arcane being if I never get the chance to study him?"

"Right," Caoilfhionn said, smiling. "That's certainly tempting. But Trahearne's recovery has been slow, and I don't want to leave him alone."

"Were you going somewhere?" Trahearne's voice came from behind him, and Caoilfhionn looked up at him with wide eyes. "Hello, Wegaff. What's the news?"

"I'm sure Caoilfhionn can summarize in a way you can understand," Wegaff said, which made Caoilfhionn frown skeptically at him – Trahearne was far more intelligent than Caoilfhionn was, at least _he_ thought so! "I already disseminated my information."

"The important thing is: the Human god Balthazar wants to kill the remaining Dragons, and take their power for his own," Caoilfhionn said. "And we're not so sure that killing any of the Dragons is a good idea."

Trahearne was very still, showing impressive self-control given his current instability. "Mordremoth had to die." But he was growling, ready to blow up.

"Yes," Caoilfhionn said, remaining steady. "The other Dragons may enthrall and subdue but none of them enslaved the way that Mordremoth did. Our entire race was in danger in a way no one else was or is."

"I guess you have a point," Wegaff said, though reluctantly. "It's made everything we do now a lot more delicate, though."

"Are you saying-" Trahearne began, with flashing eyes, and Caoilfhionn grabbed his arm.

"Wegaff, do you remember what I said to you at the time you first told me that killing the Dragons might be bad?" he asked.

"Of course," Wegaff said. "You said we might use the baby dragon to replace one of the Elder Dragons. The immense amount of time that would take – which we don't have – aside, I will admit you might be on to something. But we don't have ten thousand years."

Trahearne let out a deep breath, allowing himself to be drawn back to the topic at hand and not to take umbrage over his decisions of the past five years. "So I suppose you'll be going to stop Balthazar."

"I haven't decided yet," Caoilfhionn said. "I know Hope's – Dragon's Watch would benefit from my presence. But Balthazar is likely going to Elona, and that's a very long way away..."

"Weeks, by ship, many days even by airship," Trahearne said. Had he traveled there in his past, too? "I'll miss you."

"But-"

"You're ready to go," Trahearne said, taking his hand and standing, leading him away from Wegaff, from Astorea. "You are healed, body and soul. I am not. That is just the way it is. I don't want to..." He cut off.

"Hold me back?" Caoilfhionn said softly. "You are not. You could not."

"I certainly can," Trahearne said. "It does not escape me that you are restless. You are happy to be in the Grove, happy to... be with me, but you are burning to join the action, wherever it may be."

Caoilfhionn lowered his gaze. He'd thought he'd disguised it well, even from himself. He did not want to leave Trahearne behind.

"This is your chance," Trahearne whispered. "Take it. Do not worry for me." His mouth twisted. "I will be well cared for even in your absence. Like an infant."

Caoilfhionn squeezed his hand. "You'll be coming after me, won't you?"

Trahearne looked surprised. "I... Yes. I suppose I have nothing better to do."

"Then... then I think I could go. If you're sure." He hesitated. "Do you _want_ me to stay."

Trahearne glared at him. "Don't ask me that. Go have adventures."

Which mean he wanted him to say and was afraid to say so out loud because Caoilfhionn _would_ stay. His eyes told the truth, and Caoilfhionn was caught.

Trahearne huffed. "Go, dammit. Stop hovering over me."

"Only if you kiss me," Caoilfhionn said, trying to break his sour shell.

It worked; Trahearne leaned in, his whole demeanour melting into contrite adoration, and Caoilfhionn returned both embrace and kiss with shameless passion.

Wegaff was pointedly looking at his pocket device when they walked back to him. "So are you going or not?"

"I'm going, and Trahearne will come later," Caoilfhionn said, smiling. He intended to milk as many kisses as he could out of the preparatory time, though, first. "I'll be ready in a couple days."

"The sooner the better," Wegaff said. "I'll start asking around about transport while you do... whatever it is you're doing."

Trahearne squeezed his hand. "This is the right thing to do."

Caoilfhionn squeezed it back. "I won't be gone from you long. Come to me as soon as you can."

* * *

Caoilfhionn had been gone a week. Trahearne sat alone in his room, waiting. For what, he did not know. It wasn't like he would simply magically recover, yet fighting to heal seemed pointless. His first blush of gratitude and joy at being alive had worn off long ago. He'd fought so hard to survive long enough for Caoilfhionn to come for him, to live for the one he loved, believing that he could rescue him – and he had! Oh most beautiful of beings, knight of knights, the fiery sword that pierced all darkness, Caoilfhionn – but was it worth it?

 _It wasn't_ , whispered the feelings in his head. _What can you offer him, broken as you are? What use are you to him or to anyone? Better to have succumbed and let him kill you. It would have been a merciful death. And he would be free_.

He sat motionless, eyes distant, contemplating the truth inside him. His thoughts wound their way along mazey paths, scattered and disoriented. It was so difficult to think straight, even without the echo in the back of his mind; he was tired of his ineptitude, his weakness – it had been so easy for him before! He knew intellectually what was wrong with him and that did not stop him from feeling ashamed and despairing. No amount of rest would fix it. And maybe that was most of his problem. How did one overcome the insurmountable?

He had been glad when Caoilfhionn left. His love was never more beautiful than when he had a cause to fight for, a goal to hope for, and he was more powerful than ever. He would save the world, again and again, and Trahearne was happy for him. Better than he be out there, shining for all, than closed away, wasting himself on Trahearne's wounds. He was almost sickeningly jealous of him, how he'd come through the deep jungle seemingly unchanged. Yet now that he was gone, Trahearne yearned for him as if his heart were already broken. He craved his love and affection and support, useless though it might be. Caoilfhionn mocked himself and called himself selfish, and perhaps he was, demanding mercilessly that Trahearne slog back in the vague direction of life, but Trahearne wanted to be selfish too and keep Caoilfhionn all to himself-

Like Mordremoth? It wanted the Sylvari all to itself. No, Mordremoth was dead- His body shuddered as he remembered, unwillingly. Those whispers, murmurs, shouts, clawing at his mind, gouging pieces of it away, bit by bit, and he hung, helpless, until he passed out from the sheer pressure. Day after day – only a few days but long enough... Blessed Source, it had been unimaginable torture. Mordremoth had not managed to crack his sense of self, his defiance – but it'd taken everything else, his intellect, his body, nearly his will...

He didn't remember it clearly with his waking mind, which was one small blessing, even if he could not turn away from it – half-remembered horror following him wherever he went. Stirrings of something that were not his own thoughts, threading through his already scattered thoughts insidiously – like vines, and he shivered again with fear and anger. His thoughts wandered in circles aimlessly, rolling around the nightmare they were trapped in. Nightmare... he was afraid to sleep, especially without Caoilfhionn beside him, afraid to drown himself in powerless torment. Sleep brought no rest to him.

 _What are you waiting for?_ He couldn't tell whose words they were, if they were echoes of a dragon or his own reproachful guilt. _You should be getting up and doing. Sitting here is useless, just like you. But you can't, can you. No wonder they pity you_.

He reached out and knocked over the table. It thumped on the soft earthen floor.

The violent action had not sated him and in sudden fury he seized his focus and blasted death magic at the overturned table, smashing it to smithereens. It was still not enough, and he flung himself through his small home, flinging magic at shelves, the chairs, even the bookshelves, even the chest where Caladbolg lay hidden, as broken as he. Who cared!? Nothing mattered-

"Trahearne!" He stopped at the cry, just before he'd gone to do something self-harmful like punch the rocky wall. He was breathing hard. His house was a mess of torn leaves.

It was Malomedies, standing at the door, looking patiently at him. He hated that look. Hated to feel that he was an invalid – but he was – but he shouldn't have been- "Brother. Put down the focus."

Trahearne dropped it and turned away. "What can I do for you?"

"You can stop pushing everyone away," Malomedies said softly. "You prideful fool, my brother, why do you hide from us?"

Trahearne whirled, shaking with anger. "Why!? Why do _you_ insist on subjecting yourself to me?"

"Fool," Malomedies said again, gently. "When I returned from my abduction and torment, you never gave up on me. How then should I give up on you?"

"They couldn't touch your mind," Trahearne said. "Not like- I can't-" He suddenly fell to his knees and found he was weeping. Where was his self-control? He should never have shouted at his brother – he remembered all that – Malomedies was right. His brother had been physically beautiful until the Asura had stripped his health from him, but his mind had gone through that suffering and come out more gentle, more beautiful. Why could he not do the same!?

As if to prove his point, Malomedies knelt beside him and embraced him. "You don't understand, Trahearne. I thought Caoilfhionn might have taught you, but it seems you still don't know. You hurt us more by insisting on bearing your hurts alone. Always, you have done this, for Orr, for Zhaitan, and now. Stop, dear one. Your nobility does not come from suffering in silence until you shatter."

"I... I..."

"When you were strong, you found more strength in others to buoy you up when times were difficult. There is no shame in finding strength in others now while you are weak. You hate to feel helpless, I know – we all do. But your pride will only make things worse."

"I may never recover," Trahearne rasped. "What if you are wasting your time?"

"What if we aren't?" Malomedies retorted. "And let me inform you immediately that if you don't agree to move into my house while Caoilfhionn is away, I will be moving into yours. Now that you've sent away the first person that you trust. Fool of a Sylvari."

"All right," Trahearne said, and almost smiled. "If that's what you wish."

* * *

He went to see the Pale Tree. Malomedies must have spoken to her. He'd seen her briefly when they'd first come out of the seedpod, but since then he'd stayed away. She had been wounded too, and he had dared not burden her with his small problems.

But Malomedies had told her, it seemed, and told him that his problems were never too small to bring before her... An advantage of being a Firstborn, perhaps, or at least of being dear to the Tree. Which would have made him feel guilty if he were capable of taking on even more guilt. But she had sent for him, and he could not refuse this time.

He came before her avatar in the Omphalos Chamber, and knelt before her. "I am here, Mother."

"Ah, Trahearne... I am sorry I could not help more."

"You healed my body," he said. "That is enough."

She raised him to his feet with a gesture. "It is not. You are not acting yourself. You are unwontedly destructive. You must try to be good, my son."

"What do you want me to do!?" he cried angrily. "Do you think I have not been trying? Don't tell me what to do." He put a hand to his head. "I do not want to leave the Dream but I scarce feel myself part of it anymore. How can I be good – how can I be your son when I cannot-"

"You will never not be my son," she said to him sorrowfully, and he looked away with self-reproach gnawing at him. "Even were you to fall to Nightmare, I would still love you. But that is why I blame myself. If I could fix it, you would not have to..."

"No one can," he said shortly. The Dream was powerful, the Pale Tree was powerful, yet magic did not solve everything. "If I had been stronger..."

"No one else could have been stronger than you," the Pale Tree said to him. "No one except maybe Caoilfhionn, who dared the impossible, for love... The two of you need each other."

"Mother..." He slumped to his knees. "I cannot live up to your ideals right now, with Caoilfhionn or without. ...Please..." It was difficult to say. "Help me. Perhaps I... am ready to... try in a different way... if you can be patient with me. If... please just don't... don't push me so hard." Could she be patient with him, when he was not patient with himself?

She knelt beside him. "I... am learning, the same as you... I will try my best. Lay your head in my lap, my dear son." And as he did, she stroked his brow with a semi-corporeal hand and began to sing. " _Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way..._ "

The familiar melody washed over him and it quelled his doubts, his meandering mind. For how long, he didn't know. But he was grateful for the respite.

* * *

Damara walked into the market of Amnoon with Betty, her devourer, clinging to her backpack, and stared around in fascination. Her mom had been from Vabbi originally, before... escaping – she never spoke of that much. But she had spoken of Amnoon! Its beautiful pyramids, its endless markets, its well-trained raptors, its multitudes of people. But she'd felt it still too close to whatever she was running from, and set out for Lion's Arch and then Divinity's Reach, where she'd met a Krytan man with lovely dark eyes and... they'd been taken away by sickness when Damara was fourteen.

She blinked away sudden tears and tried to focus on the city around her, not her recollections of her mother's recollections. And her gaze fell upon a man in local clothing, bantering with an Asura... but very fashionable local clothing... and his stance was really familiar... and the sword at his side... and he was blue-skinned- "Caoilfhionn!?"

Caoilfhionn and Wegaff turned, and Caoilfhionn grinned. He was wearing glasses!? And a white short robe with loose sleeves and brightly-coloured red sashes, and a long violet vest, and loose pants, and a local-style head covering. No wonder she hadn't recognized him at first. "Hello, Damara! You made it!"

"What in the name of the Six are you two doing here?" she exclaimed. "Why are you dressed like that? Oh, it's been so long since I've seen you, Caoilfhionn! How are you? How is Trahearne?" She flung herself at him to hug him tightly and he returned it with a startled grunt, awkwardly trying not to grab Betty.

He laughed breathlessly. "Can I answer one question at a time? I'm well, thank you. Trahearne is... recovering, but he insisted that I come when Wegaff told me his plans."

"Wegaff didn't tell _us_ he talked to you," Damara objected.

"I guess I forgot," Wegaff said. "But anyway, Annhilda's my guild leader... not my professor."

"Glad to know where we stand in your estimation," Caoilfhionn said, teasing. "We've only been here a week, trying to learn as much as we could for when you arrived. Wegaff knew you'd be along eventually."

"Took you longer than I expected," Wegaff said.

"We'd have been faster if you told us where you were," Damara complained. "You came by boat? Did you get the clothes here?"

"No, Blathnat's done her research." He smiled proudly. "I don't think the locals know what to make of it. I'm not sure most of them have seen a Sylvari before – except around the casino, where Canach has been loitering. But yes, I came by boat. Is it my turn for questions yet?"

"Ask away," Damara said, hooking her arm through his and steering him in the direction she knew Annhilda, Rytlock, and Kasmeer still were, figuring Wegaff would follow if he wanted to. "Come see the others, too. Oh, it's good to see you again! I'm glad you're well enough to help us kick Balthazar's behind."

"I'm looking forward to it!"


	50. On the Rocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This set of chapters is less polished than the others, but the inspiration that I had in the middle of summer dried up unfortunately. It's really a pain about Trahearne getting killed because I really just don't have any interest in the game anymore after they did that. The story's not bad in LW4, I'm just... there's no point for me. If I had more inspiration, there would be more proper build-up for several of these plot points, particularly Trahearne's progression between his different stages. It was already a delicate balance to try to strike with being true to his personality and to achieve the sort of alteration that I was looking for, without also bringing gradual changes into it as well.

50: On the Rocks

Caoilfhionn and the other members present of Dragon's Watch – Rhyoll, Annhilda, Damara, and Rytlock – were returning to the Temple of Kormir a few days after they'd saved it from the Herald of Balthazar. While Caoilfhionn would have eagerly gone after the Herald, to track down Balthazar and Vlast right away, the Temple was still in danger and so they'd delayed a little to clear out some Forged camps. It served a dual purpose; while these people deserved to feel safe, it was also important to secure friendly territory for Amnoon.

Rhyoll in particular had become invaluable; his mechanical legs that Caoilfhionn had first seen when they first met were complete, and while they had been designed with the open grasslands of Ascalon in mind, they did excellently across the sands of Elona. Rhyoll outstripped them all with ease on a regular basis, arriving at destinations nearly fresh. Annhilda often asked him to scout ahead now, "Still rather have a tank, but how am I gonna get a tank down here from the Black Citadel by myself? Hahaha!" Rytlock groused under his breath about it, which made Canach snerk with amusement when he was around.

But for now, Canach, Phiadi, Wegaff, and Kasmeer were further afield. Caoilfhionn was enjoying seeing everyone again, though he missed seeing his other friends back in Tyria, whom he still hadn't seen in over a year. Ah well! At least he could talk to Taimi over Annhilda's communicator, and they were making new friends too, sort of, slowly.

There were fewer people in the Temple now than there had been previously. Any of the refugees who had the strength to had hurried on to Amnoon. Caoilfhionn didn't blame them; although it was safe now, though Dragon's Watch had destroyed the Forged camp, they surely did not _feel_ safe to remain. He only worried that they might push themselves too hard in their haste...

He glanced around the main hall and caught sight of a figure of medium height next to the Humans, though tall to him, green and leafy and gazing up at the beautiful domed ceiling- " _Trahearne!_ " He ran forward, delight illuminating his face, and flung himself into his lover's arms. The right arm was thinner than the other, perhaps always would be, but it was full-length now. "What are you doing here?"

Trahearne smiled down at him, hesitant still but just as happy to see him as he was. "I missed you, beloved. I need to push myself. Waiting idly will not heal me. So here I am – free of all other obligations, ready to follow you and your guild wherever may be."

Caoilfhionn drew him in. "I'm overjoyed to hear it. Welcome!" He kissed him soundly. "So what do you think of Elona so far? Have you ever been before?"

"No, I haven't. It's fascinating. The cultures I see here, past and present, are so vibrant."

"I know, these _domes_ are _exquisite_ -"

"And the colours on everything-"

"And the patterns!" Caoilfhionn grinned at his love, ecstatic that he agreed so closely with him on this. And they could explore it... together!

"You yourself look splendid in local clothing. I know I said so before, in the Grove, but it is even more apparent here under the desert sun."

"Thank you," Caoilfhionn said happily.

"No doubt you've been busy aiding people. I've already heard rumours of your exploits; it seems that Sylvari, Charr, Asura, and Norn stand out in a country primarily filled with Humans," Trahearne said dryly.

Caoilfhionn laughed at the joke, but sobered. "We've begun. Balthazar is doing much damage. If he were to attack a major settlement head-on, it would be devastating. So I'm glad you're here. Come, the others can help me explain." He took Trahearne by the hand, but Trahearne didn't move. "Trahearne?"

Trahearne raised his hand to his lips and kissed it, and suddenly Caoilfhionn felt short of breath. He didn't understand entirely the emotions Trahearne was trying to convey, but he _felt_ them. And he just wanted to put his arms about him and hold him, forever.

He'd waited for this for so long, when he and Trahearne could see the world _together_. He could still see shadows in his eyes, the walls still standing around his heart, the uncertainty in his body. But he could see the love and trust there too, reflecting his own. He just had to be patient.

And he really did have to be patient, it quickly became clear. Though Trahearne did seem genuinely happy to be with him again, and out in the world, and as magnificent in his magic with scepter and focus as ever he had been, his temper was as short as it had been a few months ago in the Grove. He snapped at minor things, without warning, withdrawing in shame and frustration afterwards, and Caoilfhionn didn't know how to help. And slowly, Trahearne slid back into the anger and depression he'd thought he left behind in the Grove. Though he began to see a pattern. The anger always flared when Caoilfhionn was threatened, whenever any of them were in danger but most especially him.

"Trahearne... you realize I can't stop being in danger, out here, on this quest?"

Trahearne bowed his head. "I... I know. But I..."

Caoilfhionn waited, trying to figure out what was going on. "The past is the past." This was... survivor's guilt, it was called, wasn't it?

"I know," Trahearne snapped. "I told you... I can't just will away my... emotions."

"I know," Caoilfhionn said, soft and yielding where Trahearne was hard and prickly. "I'm sorry."

A sigh. "You're trying to help. I'm trying. I really am."

"I know. I love you, beloved."

"I love you too."

And yet. Summoning a minion on a man who threatened to run them out of town seemed like overkill to Caoilfhionn. Snapping at Phiadi when she was a little too arrogant... picking a fight with a ghost who refused to speak with them... unleashing the full force of his power on an average-sized Branded devourer... Trahearne was not in control, and Caoilfhionn didn't know how to help him regain it.

* * *

Annhilda had asked Damara to go signal the _Phoenix Dawn_ to come moor at the spires by the skimmer ranch, to bring in some of the members of Dragon's Watch – and Canach – who had become scattered across Elona. They had to prepare for a scouting mission southward on Balthazar's trail. Caoilfhionn was with Trahearne, feeding fish to the skimmers, when Trahearne looked up sharply. "The spire is on fire."

Caoilfhionn looked and gasped, for it was so, waves of gouting fire spraying in ominously controlled patterns from the distant rock. "Annhilda! Come quickly!"

Annhilda came running. "Spirits! That's not good. She doesn't have her wyvern, so that must be..." Her grey-blue eyes widened. "Balthazar! Let's go!"

They ran, but they had only gotten partway there when a crystal missile flashed overhead towards the spiretop. "Aurene?" Annhilda cried. "Aurene! Come back! Wait!"

"Aurene!?" Caoilfhionn exclaimed, feeling a dim tug at his senses in the direction of the missile. Annhilda had told him of the little dragon's birth, but he hadn't met her outside the shell yet...

There was no time to think about it, only to climb the cliff as swiftly as possible as the noise of the fire roared over them. Caoilfhionn drew his sword, flinging water over their path, quelling the embers that fell from above and threatened to spread the flames to the surrounding area. And when they reached the top...

There was a figure lying motionless on the ground, a massive gaping wound in her chest and her clothes burning. Her devourer was a burning smudge beside her. No one else was there. "No! Damara!" Caoilfhionn shouted as he saw, sweeping water over the entire plateau. Across from him, the _Phoenix Dawn_ cruised in at high speed, Rytlock and Rhyoll jumping from its side before the gangplank was even down.

Everything was dim and he felt dizzy, a sickening weight in his stomach as he stared at Damara's dead body. He barely heard the others talking all at once, even Taimi chiming in through Annhilda's communicator. He'd lost people he'd loved before, but so rarely was it so... immediate. Ruadhan, Malyck, Sieran – he'd never seen their bodies. Tonn, yes, though he'd only known him a few weeks. To lose a guild-mate, someone he'd known his entire life...

Trahearne knelt beside her, but rose almost immediately, shaking his head. "I can do nothing for her. Her soul is fled..."

Caoilfhionn went to him and leaned his head into his shoulder, seeking his embrace, and Trahearne wrapped him in his arms and held him close, and they both wept.

Until they heard a gasping breath, and whirled to see Damara's wound had somehow closed – her eyes were open – she was blinking, and breathing, and grunting, trying to sit up!? Everyone jumped away from her, Rytlock shouting "Get back!"

" _How!?_ " Phiadi demanded stridently, not getting back but marching up to Damara with a look of extreme indignation. "How did you _do_ that!?"

"Well..." Damara thought for a minute, blinking, a bit of a goofy smile crossing her face. "I _was_ dead... But now I'm not."

"That's not how 'dead' works," Taimi put in.

"She makes a very good point," Canach said softly. "We all checked, Damara, and you were very much... no longer with us."

"This is a trick!" Rytlock growled.

"No trick, really," Damara said, her eyes still on Canach. "But we have more important things to worry about. Balthazar has Aurene."

"I know," Annhilda said, kneeling beside her. "I felt him take her. They're heading south, towards Kralkatorrik."

"But there's a large army of Forged in our way," Phiadi said. "We're going to need a plan."

"I think I have one," Damara said, trying to get to her feet – and her eyes fell upon the remains of her devourer. "Be-Betty..." And she burst into tears.

Annhilda, already beside her, put an arm about her shoulders, and Caoilfhionn broke away from Trahearne to join her other side, to comfort her. Kasmeer was kneeling with them, and even, to Caoilfhionn's surprise, Canach.

"I don't suppose your devourer can come back the same way you did," Phiadi said, tactfully soft.

Damara shook her head. "Oh, why did he have to come here now? I couldn't get away, and she wouldn't leave me..."

Caoilfhionn held her tighter as she sobbed. "I'm sorry we didn't arrive sooner. We came as quickly as we could."

"I'm glad we don't have to bury you," Canach murmured. "I know how much you love your pets, but we would miss you too."

Damara sniffled and tried unsuccessfully to dry her eyes. "I'm not saying I'd rather have died than Betty, but it's... painful... I'll be all right in a minute. I'll... Just... I need a minute."

"Of course," Annhilda said, and got up, motioning everyone away.

* * *

"So the people here really coexist with the Awakened?" Annhilda asked.

"Yes, of course," said the human farmer, smiling with bemusement. "The Bonestrand helps supply the entire empire. The farmers of Purity work with the Awakened to raise crops that are then sent south to Vabbi. Praise Joko!"

"Hmm," Damara said. Caoilfhionn looked at her – and remembered. Her mother had been from Vabbi, hadn't she? She hadn't spoken much about her, but... Perhaps he could ask delicately, later.

"Uh, praise Joko?" Annhilda pressed.

"Indeed." The farmer nodded emphatically. "King Joko has blessed us with protection, prosperity, education, and even Awakening! He defeated Abaddon and vanquished the Elder Dragon Zhaitan-"

"Excuse me," Trahearne broke in, face darkening in fury. "How dare you!?"

"I'm pretty sure those last two things are made up," Damara said.

The farmer's smile dropped like a stone. "King Joko doesn't lie. He's as honourable as he is powerful. If you want to blaspheme, do it north of the wall with the rest of the exiles."

"This is all abomination!" Trahearne snarled. "Necromancy-"

"Trahearne!" Caoilfhionn grabbed at him, at his mouth; Trahearne struggled, but Caoilfhionn dragged him away desperately, using Air to help him. Sure, the person before them was only a farmer, but even a farmer could be important. They didn't need to tip off Joko's forces that they were coming, or turn the locals against them, or-

He managed to get them out of sight behind a stone outcropping and let go. Trahearne immediately turned on him and struck him in the face. " _Don't_... don't _force_ me like that!"

Caoilfhionn caught his breath. His cheek stung but that wasn't important right now. He should have realized... had he brought back unwelcome memories? Trahearne was hunched away from him, shaking, grinding his teeth. "I'm sorry. Please- please breathe. I'm not..."

"No... you're not." Trahearne's breathing was unsteady, half-sobbing, and he leaned on the rock. "You're not to blame at all. I'm the one who should be sorry. I..." He managed to breathe deeply and turned away, looking north back where they had come from. "Perhaps we should... part ways. For good."

"How do you mean?" Caoilfhionn asked, dread seeping into him.

Trahearne glanced in his direction but did not meet his eyes. "How many times have I nearly brought disaster upon us? You deserve someone better. Someone who is not half-mad and broken..."

"Trahearne." Caoilfhionn took a step towards him, feeling his own control slipping, his normally-sweet demeanour darkening. His fists clenched as he tried not to explode. "I have not been angry at you once in my life... until now. How dare you cast me aside in your despair? Do you not love me?" He knew the answer already; he could not lie about that, even at his lowest point.

Trahearne flinched. His voice was weak and high-pitched as he answered. "I do. You are my inspiration and my hope."

Caoilfhionn huffed. "Then don't say another word about breaking the troth we made." He made himself relax his arms, his hands. "If you need space, that's fine. But by the Pale Tree, I cannot live without knowing you are there for me, whether at my side or the other end of Tyria."

"I... am the same," Trahearne said, and tears ran down his face. "I take it back. I need you as much as you need me, if not more. But I am causing problems for you. I have been this whole time. And just now... I have been trying! Truly! But I cannot seem to stop myself. I swear it is not Mordremoth, but my body and my mouth move before I can rein them in... I'm sorry for jeopardizing our mission. I'm sorry for striking you."

"I forgive you," Caoilfhionn said readily. "I did not think of how you might react to being seized and dragged off..."

"At least you didn't use vines," Trahearne said, with a flimsy attempt at a joke. He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Talk to me. What is it that upset you?"

Trahearne trembled again. "Joko. He is cruel beyond belief, and his Awakened are a perversion of necromancy. How can these people live beside the re-animated corpses of their families? How can they see this as a privilege!?"

"I know," Caoilfhionn said. "They have been brainwashed over generations."

"Yes, I know full well that I cannot open their eyes in a moment, but it... it makes me angry! 'Tis worse than Zhaitan, in some ways." He turned and slammed a hand into the rock, crumbling it under his fingers with death magic, then pulled his trembling hand back and sighed. "And that is partly why I must leave. I cannot trust myself not to ruin Damara's scheme."

"I'll come with you," Caoilfhionn said. "They have enough people to pull it off without me."

Trahearne finally turned towards him, reaching out hesitantly to caress the cheek he'd slapped before. "No. I... need to find myself. I wish I could say it was enough for me to go through life at your side, but something isn't right. And I must fix it on my own, without leaning on you."

"Must you?" Caoilfhionn asked plaintively, leaning into the hand. "But if you feel that's best, you should follow your quest. I'll be here for you, whenever you need me, as long as it takes."

Another tear ran down Trahearne's face. "I'm sorry. A lot of good I've been..."

"Stop apologizing. I forgive you. I forgive you. I love you." Caoilfhionn stepped forward and embraced Trahearne close, trying to impart all his confidence and love, to sustain him during their time apart. And if he wept tears of his own, Trahearne wouldn't be able to see from this angle.

At least not until Trahearne nudged his head up so that he could kiss him.

They parted; Caoilfhionn gave him a wistful smile. "Will you be leaving straight away?"

"I might as well," Trahearne said. "There's no pressing need for me to stay, logistically. Be careful, all right? Balthazar isn't allowed to take you from me while I'm not looking."

"No, he isn't," Caoilfhionn said. One more kiss, and he stepped back with a wide smile. "I won't keep you, then."

"Going somewhere?" Annhilda asked, approaching them from a tactful distance. "Is everything all right?"

"We're fine," Caoilfhionn said, still smiling. "Trahearne has chosen a new quest. I'll be staying with you."

"Okay," Annhilda said. "May Raven be with you."

"Where are you going?" Canach asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Trahearne said. "It's more the journey that is my quest, than any destination. Perhaps I shall go to Orr, there's not much damage I can do there..."

"I think you'll be surprised," Wegaff said. "Er- not like that! I mean, you'll be surprised by Orr in general."

"You have my curiosity," Trahearne said, and allowed himself to smile. "I apologize for my outburst earlier. I shall not get in your way from now on, at least. Good fortune be with you, and may Balthazar fall swiftly."

"Thanks!" Damara said. "I hope you find whatever you're looking for. Stay safe, okay?"

Trahearne bowed. "Thank you. I will see you all again someday." He turned and began to travel north, without looking back, tall and determined.


	51. The Hero of Amnoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [Roar of Dominion](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLv9J1u5dRM) from FE3H for the Balthazar fight scene!
> 
> I _know_ Faren doesn't have an official first name yet, and might never. If he gets one I'll edit. He was also frustrating to write until I realized he's Sain from FE7 lol. (I still don't feel he's quite right but I tried.)

51: The Hero of Amnoon

The roof of the palace was blisteringly hot. Damara gasped for air, her sand lion Myran beside her, Sohothin in her hand. Balthazar loomed before her, indomitable in his fearsome armour and his own gigantic weapon. Behind him was the wreckage of his robotic weapon. She still couldn't believe she'd disabled it on her own. The others were still engaged with Forged below; they'd promised to follow her when they could, but what if they couldn't...? Fire raged all around the rooftop; behind her, Kralkatorrik's massive head loomed out of a cloud of purple magic and sandy dust that obscured the rest of him. She was afraid down to her bones. If she died this time, there would be no coming back for her. But then, she hadn't expected to come back the first time.

Balthazar huffed a disdainful laugh at her and attacked. She dodged, hacked a hasty slash back, and ran. "Yet again, you stand alone..." He slammed his sword against the rooftop, waves of fire crashing in her direction. She rolled out of the way. "...against the god of war... armed with nothing but a sword... and the foolish belief... that you've... just... accomplished... something!" Every word was punctuated by another swing of his sword, and she tried to quell the panic. The others would be here soon, right?

"I've stopped you from destroying Tyria," she panted, wiping the pouring sweat from her face in the half-second before she had to dodge again. "That's 'something'."

"You've stopped nothing," Balthazar retorted. "All I need to finish Kralkatorrik is the scion trapped behind me."

He wouldn't hurt Aurene again! "Then I guess we're not finished here!" Though she was spending all her time dodging. She couldn't attack like this. Did her defiance count for much? Sooner or later, she was going to get smushed and fried.

Even as she thought that, fiery chains flung out towards her and wrapped around her, trapping her in place. She snarled and her lion snarled, but she was completely helpless – just like before! "Myran- run-"

Aurene trilled and broke free of the broken machine, scampering to Damara's side and shattering the chains with a blow of her tail. "Aurene! Thank you! Stay close. We can do this if we fight together."

Balthazar snorted again. "Impudent newt! You're of no use to me dead, but half dead will still work."

"The god of war likes to fight infants?" Damara cried, dodging another wave of fire and managing to get close enough to lunge a stab at his leg, then rolling away again before he could retaliate.

"The god of war likes to win," Balthazar growled with finality.

An explosion shook the rooftop slightly, and a rift appeared in the fire, water and earth intermingled blasting through it and keeping it down, long enough for figures to appear: Annhilda, Phiadi, Rhyoll, and Caoilfhionn, who had undoubtedly let them in with his new magical powers. "Hey, Damara!" Phiadi called. "The cavalry's here, you can stop holding back now!"

"'Bout time!" Damara called. "My baby had to save me, with all the time you were taking! _I'm_ supposed to be saving _her_!"

"Baby?" Caoilfhionn asked, and vanished in a blink of fire and lightning, reappearing in Balthazar's face with a stab and another explosion, then darting away again with lightning bolts playing about him. Once he'd talked to that weird guy at the creepy academy, he'd mastered the dual-element skills he'd been working on in, like, a day. Wegaff hadn't been able to believe his readings – or his eyes.

Didn't he know? She could have sworn she'd told him. "My baby girl!" Damara wailed, nodding at Aurene. "All right, sweetie, let's do this! Just like we practiced!" Practiced so long ago in Tarir, she barely remembered what to do herself. Crap.

With seven targets to defend against and attack, Balthazar could not focus on her alone, and now she took Sohothin with both hands. No Human had wielded it since Prince Rurik of Ascalon. Now she was going to kill a god with it.

For an instant, long-ago discussions with Annhilda flashed through her mind. Where would Balthazar's power go when he died?

But while he lived, he was a menace to the entire world. They'd just have to kill him and hope that _that_ didn't destroy the world.

"You cannot win," Balthazar mocked her, seeking to chain Aurene this time. Damara stabbed at the chains, shattering them with a shower of orange sparks; Aurene hissed at Balthazar with spread wings and bared fangs. How could something so dangerous be so cute? Good girl! "The gods have abandoned this world. Abandoned you."

"No, they abandoned you," Annhilda said. "We asked." Rhyoll's rifle cracked, but Balthazar shrugged it off.

Damara laughed breathlessly and darted around Balthazar. "Come on, Aurene! Come on, Myran!" Aurene bounded to flank their enemy, and hissed blue-white fire at Balthazar. He growled and jerked back, stung by her crystal flames. Myran roared and clawed at Balthazar's knees, shedding a cloud of sand that swirled around him, though she didn't think it would blind him nearly as effectively as it blinded mere mortals.

Balthazar roared and swept out more waves of fire, rings rippling outwards from his body, knocking everyone down except Caoilfhionn, who managed to jump over all of them, but her Sylvari friend hesitated to close with Balthazar, choosing instead to focus on healing them. Damara pushed herself up, feeling her muscles whimper with exertion and her shoulders scream with burns.

Phiadi coughed as she dragged herself to her feet on the other side of the rooftop. "Think you're so special... just because you had superpowers once..."

For answer, Balthazar simply stabbed silently towards Phiadi, skewering two of her minions and nearly-! Annhilda sprang in front just in time, catching the blow on her shield, and getting knocked back, nearly off the roof. Damara and Caoilfhionn tried to take advantage of his distraction, dashing to attack him in the back, but he spun and the flat of his massive sword caught Caoilfhionn and sent him flying in the other direction, into Rhyoll, whose rifle rang out accidentally into the sky.

Melandru, help her! Everyone was down again, and they were all going to get killed like she had unless she... Myran lunged, and Balthazar kicked her lion away as if he were a puppy. Damara cried out, and barely ducked another swing of the flaming greatsword, and the shockwave knocked her to the roof yet again. Oh, gods, it burned. Her body nearly gave up right there, driven to the edge of exhaustion by the heat and stress.

But she got her arms under her, got her legs under her, took a tight grip on Sohothin, and raised herself yet again.

Balthazar snarled. "I am fire! I am war! What are you!?"

Damara chuckled grimly with the last of her breath. "Still standing." Her pet was down, but not dead. The others were still moving. Everything hung on a knife's edge, but they hadn't lost yet!

He roared as he loomed over her, about to skewer her with another blazing-fast stab. She didn't have the strength, or the speed to counter...

Aurene howled, and breathed blue-white flames all over Balthazar. He flinched, and Damara stabbed. Straight into his left shoulder, through a gap in his seemingly-impenetrable armour...

"No!" Balthazar shouted, reeling back. "I am a god!"

But flames burst from his hand – his left arm exploded from his body, fiery magical energy bursting from the wound. He shook and thrashed, as if power were building up inside him, trying to clutch at the pouring stream of energy – and then his other arm exploded – and his helmet – and now he was beginning to look like one of his own Forged, hollow, staggering, a marionette of metal and flame. His face was gone, and Damara screamed to see the blank mask where it had been, eye sockets and gaping mouth revealing the fire behind it.

Piece by piece, he crumbled, disintegrated, until the blue-white magic within him flooded the rooftop, spreading into the storm he himself had created, knocking everyone to the searing hot stones. Damara cried out again as her fingers and arms burned against the stone. She couldn't see much, only that there was magic and light and shadow everywhere, and the wind was whipping dust into her face and through her braided hair. Caoilfhionn was going to have to generate a lot of ice for everyone as soon as this storm died down...

Aurene chittered unhappily, buffeted by the magical wind, as Damara found she still had the strength to stand in the middle of the storm. Sohothin was still in her hand, somehow. "Aurene! Are you okay, baby?"

Aurene was spinning in the centre of the storm, magic shooting into her, pulled in, and the little dragon was helpless to resist. "Aurene!" Damara dragged herself forward, limping painfully, reaching out to her sweet child, just as the last of the magic slammed into Aurene and she splatted to the rooftop, trilling angrily and covered in fire. As soon as the baby dragon recovered her footing, she took off and flew away, trailing a bright stream of magic. "No, come back...!"

A roar from behind her reminded her there was another dragon about, and she turned to see Kralkatorrik swallowing the rest of the magical storm. "Crap," she heard Phiadi mutter. "That's... not good. Carry the seven... No, not good at all."

Kralkatorrik roared again and turned away, vanishing into the storm of purple lightning.

Annhilda sighed. "Okay. We saved the world for about two seconds. Now how are we gonna tone down Kralkatorrik so he doesn't destroy everything, without actually killing him, which would also destroy everything?"

To Damara's surprise, Caoilfhionn was smiling. "We'll figure it out. It can't be impossible."

"You're just saying that because _I'm_ going to be doing most of the work," Phiadi said.

"Wegaff and Taimi will certainly have something to say about that," Caoilfhionn said. "And Annhilda and I are not inept at deciphering magical mysteries. But the real work done here today was by Damara, and I thank you for it." He bowed to her, smiling with such heartfelt happiness she almost believed everything was going to be okay. She guessed he had a reason to think it could be done, though. After what he'd done before, being so in love as he was... he must believe anything was possible.

"Er, thanks!" she said, smiling back awkwardly. She'd take his word for it, for now. "Couldn't have done it without you, though."

"That's why we're a guild!" he said. "But I want to say 'well done' all the same."

"Thanks! You're welcome? I... am glad that's over. I'm really hungry!"

"Me too!" Rhyoll said. "Guess it would be in bad taste to roast snacks over what's left of a god, huh?"

Annhilda chuckled. "And I'm really thirsty! Let's go find out where the others got to."

* * *

The party in Amnoon was in full swing, and Damara was right in the middle of it, having left Myran back at her lodgings where he wouldn't get overwhelmed with people. Because _she'd_ been the one to kill Balthazar, _she_ had to do the speech, which was really, really scary – almost as scary as fighting Balthazar all over again. No, it wasn't that bad. But she didn't want to do it, so she was stuffing her face with cake while she could. And hoping she wouldn't get sick once they pulled her up on stage. What was she going to say? Some of her friends, like Rytlock and Phiadi, said she needed to be grimly honest about what they were going to face, with Kralkatorrik stronger than ever. Caoilfhionn and Kasmeer said she should be inspiring and hopeful, to let these people have their night of celebration unmarred by fears. Annhilda and Canach said she should ride a middle line and let them figure out what needed to be done for themselves.

She barely remembered making the speech. This wasn't anything like leading soldiers for the Vigil or the Pact. She had the vague idea that she ought to pretend she was talking to Petra, another civilian, and focus on what _she_ would need to hear. It was... mostly hopeful? Ugh, she wished she didn't have to do it. Annhilda was really happy that it wasn't on her shoulders for once, and Damara supposed that Annhilda deserved a bit of a break, after all the speeches she'd had to make as guild leader in the past. And at least Caoilfhionn had been the one sweet-talking Joko's generals into the attack.

She was heading to the drinks table – time to get tipsy now that the hard part was done! - when she caught sight of fantastic pectorals and stopped dead. "L-L-Lord Faren!?"

"Hello, Damara!" Faren cried, in his bathing suit and absolutely nothing else, looking... ravishing, if she was honest with herself. She tried to keep her eyes up, but it was difficult! "Splendid speech! Just splendid! Congratulations on your victory. Though, I imagine you'd have won the battle sooner with Swordmaster Faren at your side. No matter! You should try the Elonian wine. It's magnificent!"

"Oh, but you had an important job in Lion's Arch, didn't you?" She took a glass of the wine and sipped it. "Wow, you don't get this at home." She'd never had a wine that tasted buttery before. Though she'd heard some nobles liked to put butter in their wine... like weirdos.

"You're right, of course! It's a good thing I stayed behind. Yours truly was responsible for thwarting an organized theft of supplies. Imagine! Without Lord Faren on the case, these refugees would have gone without tanning oil." He gestured, and they began to walk through the party, heading in the direction of the docks, where there was a bit more air.

"Right," Damara said, glancing at his midsection inadvertently. "Which... you've been putting to use yourself, I guess."

"The sun here is amazing! Though once I've developed an even colour I'll have to get to work on those pesky tan lines. Do you know of any nude beaches around Amnoon?"

"Do _I_ know of any nude beaches? Lord Faren, do I _look_ like I know about nude beaches?"

He laughed. "Perhaps not. But you don't need to tan. Your skin is already a lovely even colour just naturally! I imagine you'd just go for the enjoyment."

"Lord _Faren!_ " She reached out to slap him, blushing hotly, not that he could tell, and hesitated. He was still wearing next to nothing, and she didn't really want to touch him when he was doing that. "It's nighttime. You should put some pants on, at least!"

"But that would thwart my tanning regimen!" he cried, gesturing theatrically to the skies. "I need every ounce of sunlight Amnoon can throw at me, day or night. These rippling muscles and glistening chest hairs take a lot of work, I'll have you know."

Damara turned away, covering her face, wondering if she was in danger of getting a nosebleed. He wasn't wrong, and she hated it. "Yes, but..."

"I wonder if I could start a cruise from Divinity's Reach, with my new airship, for other like-minded souls..."

"Lord Faren, you're _incorrigible_."

"And proud of it!" He beamed with delight at her and she found herself blushing again.

"I bet I could take you in a fight, though," she said.

"I think you said that before! Alas, I don't have my rapier with me. But do you really think so?" He didn't sound doubtful, only curious.

"Look, I once kept Annhilda from falling to her death off an airship. I may not groom myself like you but I'm friggin' ripped under this leather." She saw his eyebrows go up with intrigue and regretted saying it like that.

"I'd be interested in-"

She set her glass down, grabbed him, and put him in a headlock without much difficulty. "Ta-dah! Any questions?"

"Yes, could you let me up, milady?" He was laughing, and she laughed too, and let him go, retrieving her glass. Wow, she was already more tipsy than she thought if she were manhandling Lord Faren. But she knew he wouldn't mind. He was generous to his friends regardless of class.

They'd wandered out to the docks, which were very sparsely inhabited for the moment – everyone was in the market where the food and music was. The water lapped softly at the old stones, and the moon shone down brightly upon them. She finished her drink and let the glass hang loosely from her hand. The alcohol had gone softly to her head, and she was pleasantly dizzy now. And she didn't really mind hanging out with Faren for a while. He was friendly, and familiar. ...And good to look at.

And then he took her hand in a more intimate fashion than she was ready for and she felt a jolt run up her spine. "What _are_ you doing?"

"Admiring you," he said cheerfully. "You are the Hero of Shaemoor, and many other things besides, but that title doesn't do justice to your doe-like loveliness."

"My _what_ -"

"Do you not like deer? I thought you would, with all your pets..."

She pulled her hand away. "Lord Faren..."

"What is it? What's wrong?" He looked worried.

Best to just come out and say it. "Why are you hitting on me? Your usual admirers not enough for you?" With Merula and Jasmina no longer paying attention to him, he was technically single, but what did that _mean_ with Faren?

"Ah, er, haha, well..."

"Lord Faren." Damara raised her chin. "You are a fine friend, but you are a terrible boyfriend." She didn't want to prick his ego too hard, but she felt vulnerable and anxious and covered it with aggression. "I'm not anyone's side chick or rebound or fling. I'm not going to be used and cast aside."

He looked stricken. "I... I see. I, um..."

They stood awkwardly several feet apart in the romantic moonlight. She'd just murdered the mood with a greatsword. Two seconds ago she'd thought she wouldn't reject this kind of attention, but when it came down to it... she didn't want to get hurt later. She didn't _dislike_ Faren, she just didn't trust him not to cheat on her. And after all, wasn't that the reason why she got so infuriated whenever she heard about his new conquests? She had a crush on him but couldn't believe he would care for her the way she wanted to be cared for.

He cleared his throat. "Would it help matters if I confessed that I've admired you for years...?"

She whipped her gaze up to stare at him in shock. "Then how come you were always _philandering_?"

"Um... You never seemed interested."

"That never stopped you before."

"Like, really not interested. You always seemed annoyed with me. It was... intimidating. So I hesitated. And, you know, since I'd never said anything, I didn't think you would care if I saw a lady or two..."

"Or ten, or twelve," she retorted. "That's why I was always annoyed with you. If you can't commit to a woman for longer than two months, how could I even consider dating you? I'm _not_ in the habit of changing partners on a regular basis. You'd just break my heart like all the others."

He hung his head, shamed for once in his carefree life. "I... see what it must look like to you. Clearly, I have been a complete and total ass. I swear, it wasn't like that. I'm also doing spectacularly badly at sweeping you off your feet tonight... I had thought it perfect – a celebration, the full moon on the water, my sculpted physique..."

"Physically, everything might be perfect," Damara mumbled. "Emotionally... I just... don't trust you in that way."

"I see..." Slowly, he reached for her hand again and held it gently. "What can I do to repair your trust?"

She looked up at him, feeling surprise creep over her. He really was asking? And it seemed like he was going to listen? Maybe he was just asking because he wanted to get in bed with her but he was so clueless she thought he might have trouble hiding insincerity. At least, she hoped. Maybe he was really good at it on this specific subject. "Uh... well... I don't know where to start."

He winced. "The list is that long, is it?"

"No, I honestly... I mean, I don't mind talking to you as a friend, I trust you to be a good friend! You've been a good friend and I appreciate it. But... you want to know more than that, don't you?"

He knelt on one knee before her, and wouldn't let go of her hand though she tried to pull away, and she was too polite to be violent. "Loveliest Damara, jewel among heroes, I admire you and wish you to be happy. What do you wish of me that would permit _me_ to be the one to try to make you happy?"

She could at least try and tell him that. "Um. Okay. So _if_ we were in a relationship... I hope you wouldn't try to change me. I've noticed a lot of the girls you go for are... Well, I'm really practical and pragmatic and self-sufficient, and I like girly things but I'm not really girly myself, you know? And I'm really, really not upper-class. If I had to wear dresses all the time and just go to parties I'd probably go crazy."

"It doesn't seem like you, I'll admit," he said. "I'm a pretty good judge of character, you know! I know you would look bewitching in a silk gown, but naturally if you were to wear such to save the world, it would probably ruin the gown. And of course your allure comes from your dashing rugged outdoorsiness!"

 _Probably_ ruin it? Had he ever seen her fight? Surely he had! She was always running around dirty terrain, dodge-rolling enemies, climbing rocks and trees – a gown wouldn't last five minutes out there. But at least he got it. Except for the part about him being a 'good judge of character', that was debatable. "And I guess the other thing is no cheating. I don't want to change you either, but I have to say absolutely no sleeping with other women, and no kissing them." Like... duh.

"But I can still talk to them, right? I know so many!"

He did, and the way he said it vaguely annoyed her... "Yes, of course, flirt with them if you must, that's basically how you talk to anyone, just don't _sleep_ with them. Look, I _died_ two weeks ago and came back to kick Balthazar's butt just because I didn't like him. So please imagine what I'll do if you cheat on me."

He swallowed with a nervous grin and nodded vigourously. "Yes, ma'am." And suddenly his eyes ballooned. "You _died!?_ Surely you mean..."

She shifted uncomfortably. "No, I really died. I... couldn't fight Balthazar on my own. I had to talk my way out of the Domain of the Lost and kill some kind of demon creature to return to life."

He pressed her hand to his lips fervently. "You are truly the bravest woman in the world, to challenge a god not once but twice. Thank the- Thank Dwayna you are still with us all!"

"I mean, hell yeah, I avenged my own death. But I wish I did haven't to." She didn't like thinking about it. She was afraid she'd start trembling if she did.

He was starting to fidget. "Um... can I get up yet? This ground is actually quite hard."

"Yeah, don't hurt yourself." He clambered up, brushing the sand from his knee. "So... what exactly do you want from me, my lord?" He'd asked her what she wanted, it was only fair she do the same.

"Want from you?" He looked at her with indignation, but his expression melted into his normal charming grin. "What I want is for you to cease calling me 'my lord'."

"Well... okay. Even when other nobles are around?"

"Of course! I think you've earned the right to speak to anyone as an equal. I mean, who else has killed two Elder Dragons and a _god?_ "

"That just means I'm good at being violent," she said. "I don't even know your given name."

"Damara." He took her hand again, clasping it to his heart – and she could feel it beating, under the hair and skin of his chest, and that made her heart jump like _whoa_. "My given name is Kyle."

"What?" Why was he telling her this? Why was he being so gentle?

"My name is Kyle," he repeated, patiently. "You can still call me Faren if you like. You're probably used to it by now! Without the 'lord' part, obviously, now. But I wanted you to know."

"Okay." She let herself relax a bit, let herself smile at him. "Anything else... Faren?"

He grinned at her, pleased by her effort, and clasped her hand closer. "Please let me make this night magical for you!"

Whoa, whoa, whoa. She tensed up. "What do you mean?"

He looked surprised. "What are you afraid of?"

"Isn't this a bit soon?"

"Can't I lavish compliments upon you by the light of the moon?" he said plaintively.

If that was really all he meant, then... She laughed with embarrassment. "Yes. Sorry. I haven't dated in years, and you know..."

"I understand. Your last boyfriend probably did not have my eloquence. We won't hold it against him. But if I may begin anew..." He cleared his throat. "Dearest Damara, bright star of Kryta, the moon itself cannot compare to your beauty, nor the earth to your strength, nor wind to your grace, nor fire to your spirit-"

"Ack!" She flapped at him. "Too much!"

"Too much?" He looked puzzled. "Er..."

He was still holding her hand, and she squeezed it reassuringly. "Hey, can't we just... talk like friends... while holding hands? You don't have to put me on a pedestal. They already did that back in there and I didn't really like it."

"You make a good point, my dear," Faren said, and drew her arm closer. "But it doesn't seem like enough to me. What about..." He pulled her close enough to wrap his arm around her waist, to press her body against his, and she shivered. Her now-free hand hovered nervously for a moment before carefully settling against his back. His skin was warm, and smooth, and his back was broad and firm, and the arm about her was strong and certain. "Dearest Damara, would you permit me to be your boyfriend?"

He'd heard her stipulations, right? "Yeah. Yeah, I will." Petra would have a massive glee fit.

He tilted her face up to him with his free hand, practically radiating charm, from his sparkling eyes to his carefully-tended sideburns to the dazzling smile they framed. Gods, he _was_ handsome. "Thank you for granting me this honour." He leaned in, eyes closing, and she caught her breath... and let him kiss her.

She was still nervous. She didn't quite trust him yet. But dangit, she wanted to be kissed by a cute guy, and this cute guy had just admitted that he'd messed up in the past, and he clearly really liked her, and she wanted to give him a chance. She hadn't been kissed in years, and... and... and Faren was really good at it, which wasn't a surprise. His mouth was as warm as the rest of him, and right now he was being very gentle, respecting her uncertainty, his free hand softly brushing her hair away from her face.

He released her and gave her a confident smile. "Was that pleasant?"

"Yeah," she said, and then realized that her other hand had somehow ended up on his shoulder. Why couldn't he put a shirt on!? Well... priorities. "Oh, I guess that's another thing I could ask... I wish you'd take me more seriously when I ask you to put pants on." Pants, then shirt.

He pouted, making the biggest puppy-dog eyes Damara had ever seen. "Don't you like my fine legs? I've worked hard on them!"

She couldn't restrain an embarrassed grin. "You're really cute. It's true. And there _is_ something I've wanted to do for a while..." She slapped his butt with the hand that had been on his back. Faren jumped and yelped with a high-pitched squeak. She giggled uncontrollably. "Sorry?"

"My dear Damara! How forward!"

"I'm your girlfriend now! Aren't I allowed a few liberties?"

Faren stopped rubbing his backside protectively and chuckled himself. "Why, yes, you are. What a delightful tease you are! I adore you more than ever." He leaned in for another kiss.

This time, she leaned up to him. His mouth covered hers and she felt herself melt against him, even mostly-naked as he was, felt one of his hands thread through her braids to support the back of her head. Gods, she didn't have to 'let' herself get seduced. It was happening anyway. And she was going to enjoy it.


	52. The Necromancer's Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trahearne's still listening to Aviators a lot, mostly [Monumental](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N64npSayEzg) and moving towards [Streets of Gold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RLvrTeE7S6A), but I also dipped into the Necrodancer OST for his second fight - [The Wight to Remain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHm_NiSdrbc) and [Momentum Mori](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zWHPLDHFhE) \- and returned to Aviators [Let There Be Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH0ewuSL4gs) for the final fight. He's probably going to go Reaver now; I know that him using a greatsword before wasn't a preview of Reaver, since OG Caladbolg had its own moveset, but when you get Caladbolg Orchida you get to use your regular moveset. And the Reaver moves just sound cool.

52: The Necromancer's Destiny

Trahearne pulled his cloak tighter around him, blinking through the snow. Sylvari might be more tolerant of temperature extremes than other races, but they weren't immune to them either. As evidenced by Canach griping all through Elona, and Trahearne's own discomfort at the present moment.

He'd walked north from Elona, by himself, keeping away from the main roads and settlements, gathering his own food in the wilderness. It was a return to his youngest days, when he only had himself to rely on, when the whole world lay before him unknown. Unlike then, his mood was unrelentingly grim and pointless. In the back of his mind an ignored voice grumbled and hissed.

When he'd made camp in Timberline Falls, some weeks ago, he'd turned to look into the darkness and saw Yaleiya on the edge of his camp – taller than a Norn, mysterious as a shadow. She'd joined his camp silently, folding her long limbs to sit cross-legged just beyond the fire. Her pale face seemed to float in the darkness, framed with long dark-brown hair loosely bound, her body clad in midnight-blue leather.

Trahearne broke the silence first. "I'm... not well." She made no answer. "What do you do, when you don't know who you are?"

"I have never not known," Yaleiya said, so softly.

Well, that was terribly helpful. "Mordremoth wounded me before it died. Now I doubt every action I take. I have hurt so many around me that I am afraid to be around them."

"You do not fear me," Yaleiya said.

He gave her a wry smile. "Can you be hurt?" Ignoring the fact that she'd sat next to him of her own volition.

Alien brown eyes looked back. "Yes. But not by you."

That gaze had always been hard to hold, but it was impossible now, and he dropped his own back to the fire, blinking and shaking his head to try and clear it. "I'm afraid most for Caoilfhionn. I want to fight at his side, to protect him, but what if I harm him instead of helping? As I already have? But what if he needs my strength and I am not there for him?"

Yaleiya shifted restlessly. He got the sense she had little patience for speculation. "I do not have any advice for you, little Trahearne. Think less. Do more. It is not what you like. But it is what I would do."

"I thank you, Yaleiya," he said gravely, and they both fell silent again.

By morning, she was gone.

And now, four months after he'd left Caoilfhionn in Elona, he was on the outskirts of Hoelbrak, trudging up to the home of the person he had come to visit. He knocked.

"Come in," Eir's voice floated out, and he braced himself to pull the heavy door. It opened easier than he remembered it being, despite his being physically weaker, and he was glad to get in to the warmth of Eir's hearth. "Trahearne!?"

"Hello, Eir," he said with a bow. "It has been a while." Garm trotted up to him with a big wolfy grin and sniffed his face, then licked him from chin to brow. Trahearne backed away, reaching up to wipe his face. "Hello... Garm."

"Not since we were both in one piece," Eir said with a sigh, and a glance at his right arm, still obviously thinner than the left one, but she gave him a welcoming smile. "Garm! Don't knock the man over. Come sit down. It's good to see you at long last. Food? Drink?" She was sitting in a floating chair obviously of Asuran design, with blue and gold cubes.

"Both would be lovely," he said, taking the regular chair she gestured to. "It's been a long journey for me."

"How have you been? Where's Caoilfhionn at these days?"

"I've been... Caoilfhionn is saving the world again, but I couldn't stay with him." His failings lashed him and he frowned, trying not to cringe into himself at the memories. "But how are you? You look busy. And that chair..."

"I made it," said a new voice, and Trahearne looked into the corner to see Zojja sitting, toying with her gauntlet, typing something into an array of holoprojections before her.

"I apologize, I didn't see you," he said.

Zojja waved him off. "No worries. I'm busy myself. Trying to... argh!" She paused in her typing and stared into space, swaying from side to side.

"She's overcoming some lingering issues from Mordremoth," Eir said, floating over to him with a well-filled plate and a huge mug of mead. Garm went over to the hearthrug and lay down with a satisfied grunt. "I guess we all are, aren't we?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Let me guess, that's why you're here. For my wisdom."

"If you would grant it," Trahearne said, trying not to inhale his food like a sprout.

Eir chuckled. "I don't know how I got this reputation. I follow Wolf, not Raven. Now every young hunter pesters me about everything that bothers them. Had to tell them to limit themselves to the weekend, or I was going to stop answering questions altogether. You're fine, though. You're a friend."

"It's not such a great mystery, is it?" he said to her. "Raven may signify wisdom, but he does not have a monopoly on it, does he?"

"True," she said. "So. What is it you want to know?"

He took a minute to eat and drink some more before answering. "I am missing part of my mind. Mordremoth destroyed part of it before Caoilfhionn managed to kill him. I lack the patience and self-control that I once had. I feel like an explosive device, waiting for the next mental assault to set me off."

"Hm," Eir said. "I've known many warriors develop that way without even fighting an Elder Dragon. You're very calm now, though."

Trahearne shrugged. "Today has been... easier. Seeing you distracts me from my own mind."

"And what have you done so far?"

Trahearne began counting on his fingers. "I've tried waiting it out with Caoilfhionn; I've tried waiting it out without Caoilfhionn; I've tried adventuring with Caoilfhionn; I've tried adventuring completely alone... that seemed to help some. To ignore the whispers that still linger, to know that if I lose control I will die with no one to rescue me..." Though if he were to run into a Joko supporter without Caoilfhionn around, he could guess how that would end up. Good thing there were none in central Tyria.

"So, high-pressure situations," Eir said. "But you'd rather be around people – at least, when you choose to."

"Yes. I can't simply hole up on Orr like I did during the first twenty-five years of my life."

Zojja huffed a massive sigh and trotted over to chat with them. "Ugh. I'm not making any headway on this thing."

"What are you working on?" Trahearne asked.

Zojja shrugged. "I'm _trying_ to work on a new behavioral program for Mr. Sparkles, but it's not... I can't... Look, I still have all my knowledge, and all my skills, but since I got shoved in that _tree_ it's like half the circuitry's been snipped. I can't concentrate, I can't remember things that I _know_ I know, and it's _so_ much harder to form new conclusions from previous calculations."

Trahearne stared. "That sounds similar to my problem."

Zojja continued on without paying much attention to him. "It's just so frustrating, to be just as much a genius as I ever was, only everything's twice as difficult! Stupid Mordremoth!"

"You should still take pride in what you have accomplished," Eir said. "Logan is still not as physically capable as he once was, he said in his last letter, but his mind is undamaged so he serves as Marshal and strategist for the Pact. You may have trouble thinking, but you still have all your knowledge and your physical skills, so you built me this chair. You rebuilt Mr. Sparkles. You helped your ward Taimi with her communication device."

Zojja glared at Eir. "Any Asura could do that."

"But _you_ did it," Eir said. "And I'm very thankful for this chair. It's given so much freedom back to me."

Zojja's face softened. "Yeah... Well... I know how you are about moving around. I wouldn't mind being a paraplegic in a hospital bed if I could still _think_ cleanly, mostly, I mean, I'd still complain, but you were always bouncing all over the place with Garm. And... well..."

Trahearne looked between them unobtrusively. Zojja had truly forgiven Eir, if she was helping her in this way. And that brought gladness to his heart.

"It's not important," Zojja concluded, getting huffy in that way she had when she was embarrassed.

"It's important to me," Eir said gently. "Look at what it's allowed me to do, Trahearne!" She gestured to a huge block of stone over in the sculpting area of her house, as big if not bigger than the ones outside. It was still in rough stages, only just beginning to take the shape of a square-ish male Norn. But he could imagine with the capabilities of her chair that she had little trouble reaching the top of it as she pleased.

"It's impressive," he said. "Who is it?"

"It's Braham," Eir said, with a wistful smile. "He's... having a hard time in his own way. After those strange invasions began happening, he went with Rox to find out what was going on."

"Invasions?" he asked sharply. "What invasions?" He'd been wildly out of touch with Tyrian news.

Eir looked surprised. "There have been portals opening, with strange undead pouring out of them and attacking. They look withered and dried, so I hear..."

He frowned. "They sound like the Awakened of Joko." He hoped Caoilfhionn was all right. And if Joko was messing with Tyria... His wrath would be great indeed. "Did... Has Braham spoken to you?" he asked. "I heard from Annhilda a little of what happened while I was asleep." Of the young man's anger and guilt coalescing into cruel aloofness.

"No, not really. But when he comes back... maybe I'll have this done. And I'll show him that he doesn't have to slay Jormag to be a hero to me."

Trahearne smiled involuntarily. "Well said."

"That reminds me," Eir said. "Where's Caladbolg? I haven't seen you without it in... years. Since it was given to you."

"It's... broken," Trahearne said. "Like me..."

"Don't start with that," Zojja told him gruffly. "We're only as broken as we think we are. I'm determined to overcome Mordremoth's damage out of spite if nothing else."

Trahearne offered her a wry look. "I do not have much spite in me. Anger, perhaps, and sorrow, the same as I had before, only more so, but not that."

"Well that sounds like a 'you' problem," Zojja said, willfully misinterpreting him. "It's not my only motivation either. But it's the one that gets me up in the morning right now."

"Anyway," Eir interjected, "didn't you say something to me once about Caladbolg being alive? Magic of the Pale Tree and everything?"

Trahearne stared at her.

"Seems to me like you could do worse than try to mend it," Eir said. "At the very least, it will give you a goal to hunt. You can spend years in the wilds of Tyria finding yourself, but why not multitask?"

He thought about that for a long time. The others waited.

"Depression is comforting," he said softly, his eyes fixed on his hands folded on the table, just as Zojja opened her mouth to say something. "Mediocrity is comforting. Like a Human child's blanket. There's something inside me that wants to stay that way – where no one has any expectations of me, where all my mistakes can be excused without any effort on my part. It tells me how pleasant it would be to remain passive and squander my potential." And he'd given so much, so much had been expected of him before, that not having to ever live up to anything again was disturbingly tempting. "To try, and perhaps fail, at whatever I do, is... frightening. Living up to expectations, even without a Wyld Hunt to spur them, perhaps especially without a Wyld Hunt, is frightening. It always has been, but even more, now. Caoilfhionn would be disappointed in me to hear me say so, though he would deny it."

"Are you leading up to something?" Zojja said. Eir hushed her.

"Caladbolg transformed my life when it was given to me," he said. "All it is said to do is enhance one's own abilities, but suddenly I was braver, more confident, better able to lead. Then we broke together on Mordremoth's will... but we are not dead, either of us." He lifted his right hand and closed the thin fingers.

"No, you're not," Eir said quietly. "And I know it's difficult and frightening to fight one's circumstances. I know how difficult and frightening it is to even choose to want to fight. I had to, when I first returned here after my own injury. Some cannot, through no fault of their own. But I think you can."

"I've spent long enough simply surviving," Trahearne said. It had been unkind to Caoilfhionn. For that had been what he was doing before; he had _said_ he wanted to heal, but his actions had not mirrored his words; had been the bare minimum necessary to continue living. But now he wanted... not just for Caoilfhionn, but for himself... "It is time to choose to live, to dare, to accomplish whatever I can in this world. With the help of my friends, and everyone who has stood by me so patiently." He stood abruptly and gave Eir a small smile. "You're right. I should seek out Caladbolg and repair it. You see, I was right to ask you for wisdom. I would not have thought of this in this way without you."

Eir shrugged. "I just said what I thought was right. If there was wisdom in it, you're welcome to it. But you're not leaving right now, are you? Stay the night and catch up! You can go home in the morning, or whenever you wish."

He bowed, glad of the suggestion. "Thank you. I am in your debt."

* * *

He returned to the Grove a few days later, taking the Asura Gate from Lion's Arch. He hastened to his home to collect long-neglected Caladbolg, and found Ridhais waiting outside his door. "Ridhais?"

"Marshal Trahearne!" she cried, jumping up from where she had been sitting, and bowed. "It's good to see you, sir."

"I'm no longer Marshal," he reminded her. "That honour is Logan Thackeray's now."

"I know. But it's difficult for me to think of you as anything else."

She had only awakened after he'd been made Marshal, after all. He grimaced. "Please, if you can... But what brings you here?"

"You, sir, and Caladbolg."

What a coincidence. He raised an eyebrow. "Caladbolg?"

"Yes, sir. I think it's my Wyld Hunt to help you restore it."

"How long have you awaited me?"

"Several months, sir."

He smiled wryly to himself. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Ridhais. I only decided a few days ago to attempt this task."

"I should apologize, really, Mar- sir. I was away when you woke, and I should have returned right away, but..."

"Do not trouble yourself, Ridhais. I was not ready for it before now. Only now has everything come together. Would you come in?"

Caladbolg was still safely ensconced in its dented wooden chest. It was splintered in half, its gleam so faint it could not be seen in daylight. He drew the halves from the chest, laying them end to end, but they did not join. Its magic was too weak in its current state. The hilt looked larger than ever in his right hand. "I'm sorry for making you wait. I'm hardly worthy of wielding you now, but..." But he felt the energy pull at him, unmistakably – Caladbolg still considered itself bonded to him, and had no wish to seek a new wielder. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. And suddenly, almost imperceptibly, the whispers were quieter...

"What was it you were saying about your Wyld Hunt?" he asked Ridhais.

Ridhais tore her eyes away from Caladbolg. "I dreamed of it in my Dream. At first I thought I was meant to protect Caladbolg's bearer: you."

"So you joined my guard," Trahearne remembered. "I wondered why you were so insistant, though you were so young." He'd worried, after learning of Caoilfhionn's feelings, that she might also have loved him... but it seemed that was not the case. Which was a bit of a relief, after all this time.

She nodded. "But it is apparent now, Valiant Caoilfhionn is sworn to protect you, and he will do so, no matter what it takes. Though I am still shamed that I could not defend you in the jungle..."

He raised a hand to forestall her. "Forgive yourself, please. The jungle was my mistake, and I paid the price." He had to stop, turn away, control his breathing as a wave of violent emotions crashed into him abruptly – he struck the wall with his fist and the pain helped him to focus on the here and now. "There was nothing you could have done. I am more glad you survived, without me."

"Sir..."

"But go on. Since your Dream was not of me, you determined you must be meant to protect Caladbolg itself, correct?"

"Yes, especially when word spread that it had broken. So... I've been doing research, sir, and I think I can advise you how to proceed – if you require it."

He looked down at the broken sword. "I have some ideas myself, but I..." She shouldn't be burdened with him. "I..."

"Sir?"

"I am not myself, Ridhais. I have not been for some time. The man you knew as Marshal is dead and I do not know if he will ever live again. So... you are not bound to me. You can leave whenever you wish. But... if you truly wish to come... I wouldn't mind the company."

She smiled. "I would be honoured, sir. Where shall we start?"

"First I will need the materials to physically mend Caladbolg on hand. Do you know where Izu Steelshrike is these days?" He slung the hilt on his back and tucked the rest of the blade into his pack.

"I believe he's still at Fort Trinity. When shall we go?"

"At once, if you're ready. You can tell me about your research on the way."

"Yes, sir. By the way, have you seen the statue yet?"

He turned to stare at her, and her expression suggested she found it unnerving. "What statue?"

* * *

There was a statue of him by the entrance to the Grove, huge and heroic and unsettling. He had never felt the way the statue portrayed him to be, even when he was at the height of his confidence. "By the Tree. What is it even for?"

"To honour you, sir," Ridhais said, practically glowing with hero-worship. "You've done so much for Tyria, and you haven't been properly thanked for any of it. Even though you've moved on, we never want to forget what we owe to you, and your efforts in creating and leading the Pact and slaying Zhaitan and Mord..."

He had twitched at the reminder of Mordremoth. Certainly, if he pushed himself to think logically, he'd opened a conduit for Caoilfhionn and Caithe and the others to slay the Dragon's mind, so they wouldn't have had that shot without him, but what damage had he wrought before, with his reckless charge into the jungle? "Is this... is this how everyone sees me?"

"Yes, sir!" She smiled widely. "You are the most noble, considerate, gallant leader I've ever served with."

What was her comparison? "Maybe I was once, but it did... not... feel like that. ...I wonder what Caoilfhionn will think of it."

"I don't know, sir. Er... I don't think anyone asked him. I guess that was a bit presumptuous of the organizers..."

"No, it's fine," he said. "If they had asked, I would have refused. It... doesn't suit me. But it seems that everyone else is happy with it, so it's good they did it anyway. But I don't need it."

"Ah... yes, sir."

* * *

Furnished with spiritwood from Izu, and supported by the accompanying encouragement from his old friend, he set off to seek the magic required to bind the new wood to the old, to give Caladbolg the strength to draw together and become whole again. It didn't take much for it to recover enough for that, the pieces melding together into one branch of living wood – but the glow was still weak and unhealthy. He would continue to fight with sceptre and focus until it was healed.

Ridhais had found a vision crystal, and led him to Lychcroft Mere – to Riannoc's grave. He'd been there once before, in the aftermath of Caoilfhionn defeating Mazdak the Accursed. Now, before he did anything, he knelt, and contemplated, and remembered.

It was strange... He had not known Riannoc very long, though certainly his Cycle of Noon exuberance and dashing heroism had left a vivid impression, but while he remembered, both the affection he'd had for him and the grief he'd felt at his loss as sharply as if it were new, it had been... a long time ago. Riannoc was evergreen in memory, but he had not had the chance to grow with the rest of them. What would he be like now, if he had not been taken from them so soon?

When he was... not ready, exactly, but when he could not put it off any longer, he took the vision crystal and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was in another time, and a shadow of Riannoc stood before him. This was Caladbolg's Dream, not reality – though perhaps it was truly Riannoc's soul there, conjured from whatever afterlife awaited the Sylvari by Caladbolg's memories and the unfathomable enchantment of the Dream. "Brother..." He swallowed.

The shadowy figure gave a defiant cry and charged at him, raising Caladbolg high. Trahearne stepped back, raising his sceptre, unwilling to fight his brother, even a crazed shadow of him... and felt his ankle caught. A zombie had crawled out of the swamp and latched on to him, and he could see more coming. He smashed it with death magic and ran, summoning minions to keep them off him while he figured out what to do with Riannoc. "Riannoc! It's me! Trahearne! Do you not remember me?"

But Riannoc kept coming, and he could feel the maddened fear coming from him. He didn't have a choice, did he? He was going to have to fight to purge him of the shadows that plagued him. He ducked under one of Caladbolg's bright beams – it was well that he knew Caladbolg's capabilities intimately himself – and spun, sending chilling blasts at Riannoc, seeking to slow him and make him an easier target. He needed distance, needed space to think-

" _The warrior desired only to become a hero,_ " said a gentle, sweet voice in his ear, and he nearly faltered as he tried to identify where it came from. Was it Caladbolg itself, speaking to him directly? "' _A hero is fearless,' the warrior thought, and abandoned all doubt. Magic sword in hand, he set out to slay evil. But even if he could not comprehend it, fear remained._ "

"Riannoc!" he cried. "You do not have to be fearless to be a hero! Your fear does not mean you failed! True heroism comes not from being fearless but from overcoming your fear – and you did! Ah, you did..." And part of him wished that he hadn't, that he had fled, returned safely to the Grove, even if he had been shamed in so doing... but then Mazdak would have claimed Caladbolg.

The shadow did not stop, still swinging Caladbolg at him, and he ducked and dodged, putting to use agility that he hadn't had need of in years. The bright beams of light magic and his dark beams of death magic zig-zagged across the mire. His sap raced in his veins as it had not since he was fighting for his life- no time to think about that; he only prayed that he didn't catch his foot on a root or slip in the mud. By the Tree, Riannoc was a marvelous warrior! He truly deserved Caladbolg... and this was but a shadow of his true self-!

And as he feared, he tripped – flailed, managed to keep from face-planting into the mud, but a beam from Caladbolg struck him square on, sending him rolling across the drier part of the ground. Riannoc was upon him as he got his feet under him and sent out a point-blank spell, dashing away from death by his own sword.

The hasty spell connected and the darkness was blasted away, leaving only Riannoc himself. Trahearne pulled himself to a stop, turned, and stared, open-mouthed. He had not seen him in thirty years and to see him now... It was like a physical blow that left him stunned and disbelieving.

Riannoc blinked at him, taking in the world around. "Trahearne? What are you doing here? You decided that I _really_ shouldn't go alone?"

"No..." Trahearne said, feeling as if he moved slowly as he walked back towards Riannoc, rubbing the mud from his face, healing his injury, feeling as if he moved in a dream. "This is... not real."

"Ah." Riannoc's expression became wistful. "With Caladbolg in hand, I thought I had no need for fear."

"I remember," Trahearne said. "But fear cannot be willed away, only overcome."

"Aye, but I pretended I could not feel it, and so I could not understand Waine, let alone become the hero I saw in my Dream. And so I lost the sword. I remember now."

"I'm sorry," Trahearne said. "...I miss you." Riannoc ought to be still with them, saving the world, teaching saplings, being his larger-than-life self. He would love Caledon Forest as it was now, and the Grove, and all his generations of siblings. He would love Caoilfhionn.

Riannoc grinned widely. "Do not! My heart is with you all, in the Dream."

"I know, but..."

"'Twas my own fault, and I willingly bear the responsibility of my own death. If only I had not forced Waine to his rashness..."

"I don't have nearly as much sympathy for him," Trahearne said. "Sorry."

"He was not a bad person," Riannoc said. "He looked up to me. It was... intoxicating, a little. It was not his fault."

"Some of it was his fault," Trahearne muttered.

"Trahearne," Riannoc chided him. "None of us really understood what was happening. I don't know how much time has passed, but I'm surprised that you can't forgive him with all the wisdom you have surely gained of the world. You were always the wise one to begin with."

"Nevermind," Trahearne said. Once they had all been young together. He had not been wise then, only thoughtful. "I miss you, that's all. But you need not fear for Caladbolg. It was recovered."

"It was? Splendid! I am glad. Was Mazdak slain?"

"Yes. A young Sylvari, my lover now, did both."

"Oooh." Riannoc's face lit up with glee. " _You_ have a _lover_!? You were always so shy! What's she like? A worthy Valiant, to be sure!"

"He," Trahearne corrected him. "You don't have to remind me what I was like. He's... joyful. Unquenchable. Indomitable. If love were condensed into a Sylvari, it would be Caoilfhionn. He's of the Cycle of Dawn and in my opinion, none exemplify it better, even of our three Firstborn siblings."

"You adore him," Riannoc teased. "And I am glad of it. Does he now bear Caladbolg?"

"No, that honour was given to me. Our Mother thought I would need it to complete my Wyld Hunt, and she was correct. But... it was broken in another battle. I have come to heal it, though memory and magic."

"That's truly splendid," Riannoc said. "I know you were always hesitant to fight, but I see it in you now – you stand as one who has been through many battles. Is that what happened to your arm?"

Trahearne looked down at his right arm. "I suppose it is."

"Clearly you have had many adventures! Indeed, it makes me quite... eager to challenge you."

Trahearne smiled. That was Riannoc. "I would be honoured to accept."

"Then let us dispense with words, and test each other in the manner of heroes!" He raised Caladbolg to salute Trahearne, and Trahearne saluted formally with his sceptre. A breath, and Riannoc charged, grinning like a mad fool, Caladbolg angled for a thrust at Trahearne's chest. Trahearne wasn't letting him get close, wondering if it was cheating to summon minions. Probably.

Riannoc must have sensed it. "Don't hold back! Show me what you can do, Brother!"

Trahearne let himself smile back. "You'll regret letting me, I think..." He raised his hand and pulled a flesh golem from the mud. And another. And three smaller minions, for good measure. Yet he was still not pushing himself to his limit; he was not on the verge of losing control. "Enough targets for you?"

"Incredible!" Riannoc panted. "So effortless! I recall when summoning one of those big ones was a task for you!" He whirled and slashed, carving through the smaller minions without much effort.

But without Risen trying to attack him back, Trahearne was able to breathe a lot easier than he had before. "I suppose you are right." And now he was back to wondering how Riannoc would be were he yet alive...

"Focus, Brother!" Riannoc chided him, ducking one of the flesh golems and stabbing the other. "You may be powerful, but so is Caladbolg, and so am I!"

"Right," Trahearne said, with another little smile, and cast another volley of spells, making Riannoc laugh as he dodged them. Riannoc clove his second golem in half and dove towards him – straight into a chilling spell that made him stumble to one knee before Trahearne, who pointed his sceptre at him, focus resting easily on his shoulder.

"Magnificent," Riannoc said, breathing hard, lifting himself to his feet and bowing to Trahearne. "You were always one I looked up to – even if I didn't listen to you – and you have grown far beyond me. You have changed... for the better, though I see darker shades in you that were not there before. But brighter ones, too."

"Thirty years," Trahearne murmured. Thirty years of despair and hope, warring within him.

"So long? May you live many, many more, with your lover. May Caladbolg continue to protect you... and do protect it still."

"I will," Trahearne said, a little embarrassed – but Riannoc didn't know about Mordremoth, and there wasn't time to tell. "It was... good to see you again." He reached out his hand, and Riannoc clasped it eagerly.

"Likewise! Fare thee well, Brother."

"Rest well, my brother."

He woke then, and was quiet the rest of the day, despite Ridhais's curious glances. He would tell her at some point, but he had a lot to think about, first. Caladbolg had a tendency to draw out one's heart, hopes and doubts alike... perhaps it wanted to tell him that the good in him still outweighed the bad.

* * *

Now his quest took him across Tyria, its length and breadth, seeking out foes to challenge Caladbolg with, hidden wells of natural magic to infuse its soul; both would strengthen and temper the blade. And as the blade grew stronger, its glow returned.

And something else changed, as well. He had heard Caladbolg while battling Riannoc's shadow, but now he began to hear murmurs of the voice outside of the Dream as well. When the hissing whispers of Mordremoth grew loud, the voice of Caladbolg would hum gently, overcoming it with soothing sweetness. It seemed he also was being strengthened and tempered.

He journeyed far, fighting powerful foes – aiding the Pact in Frostgorge Sound to fight the Claw of Jormag, helping the Seraph repel yet another centaur invasion, going so far as to lead a band of random adventurers and Asuran researchers in fighting the Megadestroyer in Mount Maelstrom. He still lost control, lost himself in the fury of battle, but he knew he would not hurt his allies anymore, at least.

So it was, from south to north, west to east. He was at the north-eastern edge of Tyria, of Ascalon, in a hidden glen beyond a cave, dotted with ancient ruins through which streams ran and trees grew – and a voice suddenly called to him: "What are you doing here?"

He turned and saw a figure on a rock above him, crudely dressed in leaves, standing crooked as if bones once broken had never properly mended. "Malyck. Caoilfhionn told me you were dead."

Malyck tilted his head to one side, almost touching his ear to his shoulder. "Maybe I was. I was dead while Mordremoth controlled me."

Ridhais was looking between the two of them, looking confused and anxious. He would explain later. "I understand," he said to Malyck. "I was dead for a long time myself. I have only just started to recover."

Malyck slithered down the rock and came closer to Trahearne, limping on his crooked legs. "I still hear him, you know," he said in a hoarse whisper, as if he didn't want to be overheard.

Trahearne's heart went out to him. "I know."

"But it's not really him, is it? I felt him die. Almost died too, for real."

"Caoilfhionn killed him to save me. He will be overjoyed to know you live. He grieved you very much."

Malyck's eyes were full of yearning, but he shook his head. "I dare not see him. Not yet. But tell him... thank you. And... I'm sorry." He reached down and touched his belly, as if remembering something.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Trahearne said. "I can forgive you on his behalf immediately. We all were in danger, and you most of all." Malyck had always been the most vulnerable, never even knowing the Dream, not suspecting he would have to guard his mind as the Soundless and the Nightmare Court had found out.

Malyck came even closer to him. "Trahearne... How loud is it for you?"

He shook his head a little. "Not loud. He never fully controlled me. But what he could not control, he sought to destroy." But now Caladbolg was... replacing what was missing – or at least growing over the wounds, so they did not get in his way.

Malyck nodded, straightening a little. "Every day is a battle. I'm so tired. But I will never give in again."

Trahearne smiled at him. Malyck was fighting, fighting against wounds both mental and physical that went far deeper than Trahearne's. But he already knew he had gotten off lucky. His respect for Malyck was immense. "Every day is a victory, Malyck. ...When you are ready, you should write to Caoilfhionn. He would be so happy to hear from you. I would suggest you visit the Grove, but I cannot guarantee when he would be there..." On the other hand, Malyck was even more alone than he had been when he was newly awakened, for now he had no hope that he would find his own family with his Tree. The Pale Tree would be glad to adopt him, even if he could never fully join the same Dream... or was that too cruel, to place him in a family he could never fully share in?

"Well..." Malyck said, with a touch of his old self crossing his face, "I suppose I owe it to him to let him know how much of a hero he is. Not that he needs to be told, I think."

"I tell him whenever I can," Trahearne said. "Every Sylvari yet living owes their freedom to him. But he would be happier just to know you're alive."

Malyck nodded several times. "Don't suppose you have things to write with on you."

Trahearne grinned, already reaching for his pack. "Who do you think I am? Some fool of a rogue with nary a scrap of paper to hand?"

* * *

 _Caoilfhionn_ , read the scrap that Trahearne carried away to be posted from the next settlement he reached, _it's Malyck. I yet live. It's difficult. Trahearne says he understands. He also said you've been grieving me. Foolish of you. Did I not say I would die to protect you and your people? I hope you are well_.

* * *

When Caoilfhionn received it, he wept for joy. _Malyck! O Malyck! Glad am I beyond words that you survived! I will grieve those I care about who I have lost, thank you very much – but now I rejoice, for someday we will meet again! I am certain of it. I hear you say that it is difficult, and I wish to offer my love and encouragement. I believe in you, my dear friend! You are a brave and strong person, and kind and loyal. I pray that someday you will have peace. And thank you for letting me know you've seen Trahearne. He's on his own quest, and I've heard naught from him since he left my side. Someday I hope we can all meet again together! If there's anything I can do for you, if you would permit me to visit you, please let me know! I still have your sword, would you like it back? It is a splendid blade and has helped me immensely on my journey. Love, Caoilfhionn_

* * *

From there, Trahearne crossed Tyria again. He had tried to avoid it, but it could not be altered – he had to face the Heart of Maguuma again. Caladbolg pulled at him, and he let it – did not let himself linger in the comfort and safety of the lands he knew for too long once he felt it. He did not want to paralyze himself with fear and doubt before he even got in, or he'd never go.

Going in was already... difficult. To come out of the tunnel from Amber Sandfall and see the wreck of the _Glory of Tyria_ , just lying there impaled above the canopy, smote him to the heart and for a moment he was afraid he would pass out. It was a while before he recovered enough to continue. Ridhais was patient.

Without Mordremoth's will to control half the flora and fauna there, it was far less dangerous for travelers. Still dangerous, of course. But at the same time, he had not really seen the jungle for what it was, before, when he was being rushed through as a prisoner, watching only for what he could use to his advantage. He found himself wishing he could be there with Caoilfhionn – for surely Caoilfhionn had not gotten a good look at the land either, rushing after him with all his worry. And Caoilfhionn would help bolster his courage here, when he faltered at the shadows of thorny vines. But he had to do this himself. He could not lean on Caoilfhionn this time. If he failed, Caoilfhionn would still love him... and that was not the encouragement he needed right now. He gripped his determination hard and made his way forward, one step at a time.

Caladbolg led him to the place he had fallen from the _Glory_ into the jungle, where he and Destiny's Edge had been overwhelmed by fierce Mordrem beasts. Caladbolg had not been broken there, but it had been wrest from him. Only when he had first been brought before Mordremoth had he been able to break free of the Mordrem hands that held him, seizing his blade and attacking everything about him. _Then_ had it broken, and the shock of it had knocked him out. And he'd never truly regained consciousness after being placed in the Blighting pod, only knowing that he had to fight to keep his mind, his soul... only waking when Caoilfhionn appeared before him and called his name with love and fear and grief...

This vision was not that. When he opened his eyes into the dream, he saw before him one of the Mordrem monsters – a vinetooth, he thought they were called. It had trampled him, clawed him, cast his golems aside like toys. He had learned to fear it quickly. He felt the breath stilling in his lungs.

Caladbolg whispered to him. " _The hero sought to save the world. 'If I keep trying, I'll be able to win,' the hero thought. But the harder the hero fought, the further the world seemed to tumble away. Drowning in doubt, the hero could not even save themselves._ "

He shook his head angrily at the words. "I've seen this before," he told the visionary vinetooth as he dodged its first charge. "I did not win then. But your master is dead. My love was victorious. So I will be victorious against you!"

It screeched with hatred at him and sprang high in the air towards him. Trahearne gritted his teeth, jumping backwards and unleashing a barrage of spells at it, chilling spells, life-sapping spells, hexing spells. The monster's impact knocked him from his feet and he tumbled over and over away from it, somehow managing to keep his grip on his sceptre and focus.

It was stomping carefully towards him, the ground shaking beneath its tread. He scrambled to his feet, eyes and spirit blazing, a wave of rage breaking over him, and flung spells at it, striking it in the leg, the head, and it flinched, its skin discolouring in large patches. It hissed and snapped at him, and he jumped back, dodging its teeth, its tail, its claws. It sprang at him again and his magic surged to meet it, knocking it away before it could flatten him with its impact. Now _it_ was the one to tumble away, and he followed it recklessly, hardly knowing what he was doing, only that he was going to tear it to pieces _now_. His thoughtful, tactical self would have been horrified... if it had been aware of anything.

If it hadn't been for the other Mordrem around, overwhelming Destiny's Edge and his soldiers, this fight would have gone _very_ differently the first time too.

There was a rumble that shook the very air around him and he froze, stock-still, breath caught in his lungs again, eyes dilating, sap halting in his veins.

He sucked in a breath and screamed back in answer. "No! You are dead. _You are dead and I'll kill you again if I must!_ " The shout echoed from the cliffs and trees around him, and he found himself trembling... in rage, not in fear. His feelings a moment ago were nothing compared to this instant, when the memory of every injustice ever done in his presence rose up before him, every living, breathing being he could not save, every dead sibling he could not protect. He felt as he had when he stood before Mordremoth in his own mind, Caoilfhionn's soul at his side, and blasted it into atoms with Caladbolg. His vengeful wrath was all-consuming and he took flight in it.

The vinetooth was rushing at him again with another shriek, raising itself onto its hind legs. He cried out furiously in answer, and he blasted it with death magic, channeling his strength into a intricately massive wave that assaulted it from all sides at once. It screeched and thrashed, but it was withering before his eyes, leafy flesh melting from its wooden bones. It collapsed before him, its teeth gently knocking against his chest, and he took a step back and sheathed his weapons with grim satisfaction. He looked around quickly, but the vision did not seem inclined to force him to fight against Mordremoth again.

He came out of the vision and looked at Caladbolg, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He was still shaking. "That was cathartic, wasn't it?" He sensed agreement.

Ridhais smiled. "What was once wrong has been righted, hasn't it?"

He looked towards the remains of the _Glory_. "'Twould have been better if it had not been wrong to begin with... but at least it will no longer plague my nightmares."

"I am glad for you, sir."

* * *

The last step in healing Caladbolg was, naturally, to go to Orr. For all he'd planned to go there, he still had not since he had left Caoilfhionn – since he had awoken from his injuries. Since he'd gone to Camp Resolve.

" _With billowing robes of blackened silk, she beckons us, arms outstretched_ ," he recited softly as he came to Fort Trinity, all the familiar sights and sounds washing over him, the dark cone of the forbidden land looming in the hazy distance. " _I see my brothers walk forward, greet her as a friend. So many fold themselves into her embrace. And even over their cries, and the roars of the beasts, I hear Darkness call to me with a promise. But I close myself. I will not join her yet. Another call is more beautiful..._ " and the last line was still a mystery. It was still his favourite.

"I remember," Ridhais said. "You used to say lines from that during the Zhaitan campaign."

"I did... but it was not for him. It was for Orr. For me."

"For Valiant Caoilfhionn?"

"Yes, I think so."

When he left Fort Trinity and headed west, with only Ridhais for escort, he stared as it became visible through the haze, as he crossed the bridges of the outer islands. Surely it wasn't... He must be mistaken...

He came closer – standing beneath the Vizier's Tower – and gaped. And then tears flooded his eyes and he couldn't see anything.

Orr was _green_. Orr was alive. His efforts had not been in vain. To think, the last he'd seen there had been lichens and seagrass, and to see – green grass, and waving palms, and ivy and shrubs and flowers – _flowers_ , on Orr! He'd heard vaguely that Dagonet had organized something, that things had changed, Wegaff had hinted before, but he'd never _imagined_ \- Orr was scarred and battered and, according to his reports, still dealing with lingering Risen, but despite everything, it was growing anew, and growing strong.

There was probably a lesson in that for him. Caoilfhionn would rub it in, lovingly, if he ever told him about it.

Dagonet found him on the beach. "Well met, Brother! What do you think?"

Trahearne had no words, only tears – and hugged his brother tightly. "I... It's incredible."

"Everything you ever dreamed?" Dagonet asked affectionately.

"Everything and more." He pulled himself away and gestured to... everything. "It's exactly how I envisioned it. _Exactly_. How did you know?" It was one thing to know he had fulfilled his Wyld Hunt... and quite another thing to _see_ what had resulted from it.

Dagonet laughed heartily. "Your notes on the ancient flora and fauna were very helpful. And really, how else could it look, if we were doing our jobs remotely correctly? We could hardly bring pines from the Shiverpeaks to a tropical environment."

"It's marvelous. Thank you so much." If only he'd had those kind of resources when he was Marshal – but no. His job had been to find a way to deal with the Dragons. His Wyld Hunt had been his personal quest, not one to beg Tyria's help on, especially once it had technically already been accomplished.

"Would you like an escort, or no?"

"I wouldn't mind your company for a while, if you're not busy, but I have an escort." He gestured to Ridhais, who bowed. "And I hope you're not suggesting that just because everything's green now, I've forgotten my way around."

Dagonet laughed. "Of course not. Let me inform my assistants where I'm going, and I'll walk with you a while."

All along the coastline it was the same, and he would never get tired of seeing it, how the new was swallowing up the old, how the towns and villages were becoming overgrown, how the crumbling corals and gigantic shells were being cleaned and transformed into beautiful sculptures. The black stone stone stood out among the green in a very pleasing way, and the mountain at the centre of Orr was beginning to look as if moss were creeping up its sides, rather like Mount Maelstrom. Even the climate was changing. It was more damp, mists blowing by the volcano's cone, soft clean white wisps of cloud; the Dragon's miasma had been gone since the year following its defeat, but the weather had never been very kind. Now he could see immediately how Orr had been a paradise for its inhabitants.

Dagonet left them in the evening, at a camp – not even a camp, really. Instead of huddling in tents or lurking in caves as the Pact had during the Zhaitan campaign, the researchers and ecologists had begun to move into the long-abandoned villages. It would still be a while before anyone lived there to inhabit, like they lived in Caledon Forest, or Kryta, but it thrilled him that people were living there all the same. And it was like that everywhere they visited on the several-day journey to the western side of Orr. Some people knew who he was. Some didn't. He neither sought them out nor avoided them, only was pleased to observe them.

At last they came to the Temple of Melandru, where the Source discharged, and followed the hidden passage within. The door was open, letting the stream flow out freely, and Ridhais and him to enter. He guessed there was not such a need for the door to be locked when the Risen were so feeble. But there was a guard, and they saluted him, and he nodded to them as he entered.

He gasped audibly. He had expected to be astonished, after everything he had seen so far, and he had been right. The memories of his triumph here flooded him, of the intense strain of casting and holding the spell, of the way Caladbolg had taken the spell and burst it into fulfillment, the way Caoilfhionn had caught him and kissed him so passionately... The way his Wyld Hunt had cried out in ecstasy and left him, leaving him with the jubilation of the Pact around him and the victorious hope that Orr might be free. The hope that someday it might look the way it did now.

Every wall was draped in vivid green, vines and lush mosses dotted with small flowers creeping over the stone up to the windows above, where silvery threads of water dripped down into the pool below. It smelled like the freshest of mornings, cool and verdant, green and slightly bitter.

' _And you will always be strong,_ ' the song went, had Caladbolg sang to him when he first came here, and he found himself striding forwards, head high, tears of wonder and gratitude running down his face. He drew Caladbolg, and saw it shining, almost healing before his very eyes.

"Once more," Ridhais said, with a hopeful smile, and handed him the vision crystal.

He nodded, grateful to her for standing by him through this journey, a most faithful squire, and turned to concentrate on the crystal.

The first thing he saw as he lifted his head was a dark, shadowy figure, clutching Caladbolg to its chest protectively as it knelt in the centre of the fountain. It was his own self, wrapped in shadow like Riannoc had been, wracked by doubts, weighed down by fears. _That_ version of him... was not fit to wield Caladbolg.

But... _he_ was. Even as he was, with the cracks in his mind and scars in his soul...

The figure rose to meet him, swinging Caladbolg into a salute courteously. " _The scholar dreamt of a land reclaimed from the dragon's touch,_ " Caladbolg sang to him from his shadow's hands. "' _I must learn how to fight it,' the scholar thought, and sought knowledge. But all the scholar found was despair at the impossible task. Perhaps from the beginning, it was indeed simply a dream_."

"Dreams are powerful," he whispered. "You showed me how to overcome my despair then, and it led to... this. Help me now."

The voice was silent, but he felt the accord in his mind.

His shadow swung the greatsword, and Trahearne dodged as the beams of light began to blast from it, splashing through the spring. He was cautious without holding back with his own spells. He couldn't lose control here; his past self had had excellent control even through his doubts and fears. He knew perfectly well how dangerous he could be, but he needed to defeat that shell of himself. If there was anyone he knew whom he would gladly defeat, it was his past self.

It wasn't going to be easy. Flesh golems rose before him and he summoned his own in response. "Get out of my way," he muttered, dashing past them to find an advantageous place to cast from. He felt anger rise in him and let it surge through his limbs, but kept a tight grip on it from clouding his mind. He could do that now.

It was a deadly dance they trod, Trahearne weaving between minions and golems, his shadow taking aim at him as he ran. Light blasted past him, narrowly missing his body, clipping his elbow. He could feel the other's determination, a mirror to his own, interlaced with desperation. When two identical wills clashed, who would triumph? He felt his anger subside, exultant conviction welling up instead. Casting away everything that had weighed him down before, he leaped lightly onto a minion, and from a minion to a golem, and from his elevated vantage point leveled his sceptre at his doppelganger, blasting it with icy darkness.

The figure staggered and fell on his back, still gripping Caladbolg tightly. Trahearne hopped down from the collapsing golem and drew closer, sceptre ready, but the shadows had been torn away, and it was his own face that looked up at him, a face tear-streaked and yet smiling.

His doppelganger stood and bowed, holding the hilt of the sword out towards him. The blade sang to him. " _Trahearne, if you still believe in a brighter future, hold in your heart a thorn that can pierce all doubt_."

He slowly reached for the sword. He... believed. Even though his mind was still scarred, even though his anger simmered closer to the surface than before, he knew it would not stop him. He would stand at Caoilfhionn's side; he would protect him, and everyone else on this green world of Tyria.

His thin fingers closed around the hilt, and as he took it from the other's hands, it began to sprout. Tendrils and buds curled around his hand, and and he raised it over his head with a flourish, it blazed with light, stronger than ever before. Caladbolg hadn't just been restored... it was reborn.

His doppelganger smiled, then disappeared with a shimmer as he left the vision, still holding Caladbolg aloft. Trahearne let out a breath. It was done. The Pale Tree's thorn was whole, and... so was he. Different, both, than they had been over two years ago. They had moulded each other, so closely joined now they were virtually one being. His was the only hand for this blade now, and he would never wield another. And now his quest had come to an end.

Which meant a more important quest was beginning. And he would dare to see it through.

"It's so beautiful," Ridhais breathed. "It's as I saw it in my Dream."

He turned to her and bowed. "I am eternally grateful for your assistance through all of this. I could not have done it without you. Your Wyld Hunt has subsided?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "It feels... wonderful."

"It does," he said, remembering his own. He sheathed the sword on his back. "Congratulations, Valiant Ridhais."

She smiled widely. "Thank you, sir. What will you do now?"

"What I was not ready to do until now," he said. "It will be deadly dangerous. Even with all my and Caladbolg's strength, we may not be able to accomplish it. But I will go anyway. What will you do?"

She hesitated, intimidated by his rather grand proclamation.

"You are not bound to my side for life," he said to her gently. "It was an honour to have you as my squire for this quest, but Tyria is your home, is it not?"

"Yes, sir. I will miss you, though! And I wish you the best of luck on your future quests, and all possible happiness with Valiant Caoilfhionn."

He would be proud of him, and he couldn't wait to show him. "Thank you, Ridhais. Now if you could but stop calling me 'sir'..."

She laughed. "Small chance of that, sir. Shall we?"


	53. Mistakes Have Been Made

53: Mistakes Have Been Made

"Guess what I found out!" Phiadi announced to the present members of Dragon's Watch in their temporary hideout in a cave on the northern coast of Istan. "There's a bounty for Damara!"

"What!?" Damara wailed. "Why just me?"

"Yeah, why not me?" Annhilda said. "Damara killed Balthazar, but I ticked off the Mordent Crescent, didn't I? Or Caoilfhionn, since he did all the talking?"

Phiadi shrugged. "How should I know? But naturally, we should go get it."

"Why?" Caoilfhionn asked, confused. "Shouldn't we take it down to protect Damara?"

"No, silly!" Phiadi said. "We turn her in, collect the bounty, and then break her out again! We'll be rich!"

"Funny you should say that," Annhilda said. "While you were out scouting, I found out the local leader of the Sunspears is imprisoned by the Mordent Crescent. We have to break him out."

Phiadi looked suspiciously at her. "And I suppose we can't use Dragon's Watch to turn in our bait and get the gold."

"No," Annhilda said. "I'm glad you told me about this, because it makes it so much easier! There's some pirates nearby who will do anything if we recover an artifact for them. Bribing them with the artifact _and_ heaps of gold is a foolproof plan."

Phiadi flopped down, disappointed. "But think of what _we_ could do with heaps of gold..."

"Think of what we can do with an alliance with the Sunspears," Caoilfhionn urged her.

"Think of me getting locked up by the Mordent Crescent!" Damara said. "It's easy for you all to talk about this plan! What if they kill me instead of locking me up? I'm too young to die! My pets will miss me! I only just got a boyfriend last month!"

"The bounty was definitely for you alive, so they wouldn't just kill you right away," Annhilda said. "Whatever they want you alive for, they'll keep you alive long enough for Dragon's Watch and the Sunspears to distract them from your escape."

Damara put her head on one side and stroked her sand lion. "Well... let me think about it. I'd like this plan to be a bit more solid before I commit to it. You're proposing some really wacky ideas – and you're assuming that these pirates are open to negotiation."

"Well, whatever you're going to do," Phiadi said. "There's been nothing interesting to research for _ages_. Money was the only thing nearly as interesting..."

"There was a whole library," Caoilfhionn began indignantly.

"Library, shmibrary," Phiadi retorted. "I mean like _tech_. Wake me when you find some of that."

"I'll ask the Spearmarshal," Caoilfhionn said, teasing.

* * *

The wanton explosions ground to a halt and Scruffy's parts clattered slowly to the ground. Taimi tumbled out and lay unmoving.

"Taimi?" cried Caoilfhionn, and dashed forward. "Taimi!" She had grown to full stature sometime between when they had met and now, but she was still tiny and fragile to him as he carefully gathered her into his arms, channeling a soothing healing mist around himself. Damara was right behind him, ready to help.

Taimi began gasping deeply and opened her eyes. "Never been so... happy to... smell dead people..."

"Well, we've stopped that," Braham grunted. "For the moment."

Taimi managed to smile at the Norn. "Good to see you again, Braham."

"...Yeah," Braham said, uncertainly. Caoilfhionn couldn't read his aura, nor Damara's, but he'd heard how Braham had been so angry before. Now he was just cold and hard like ice. It wasn't like how Caoilfhionn remembered him, and he didn't like it. But Braham was a stubborn man. Like to Trahearne, he would need time and patience to thaw.

So he ignored the emotions buzzing behind him. More importantly: Taimi was recovering her aplomb, but she had been deeply shaken – terrified for her life – yet so brave! "You all right?" he asked, letting her down as she seemed to be recovering enough to stand on her own.

"Yeah," she said, limping over to Scruffy's hull and plopping herself down beside him. "It's not every day you're almost asphyxiated by your own golem. But I'll live."

"Oh! Before I forget," Damara said, and pulled the hair ribbon out of her pocket. "I found this. You left it for us, didn't you?"

"Aw, thanks, Damara," Taimi said. "I was hoping you would get the hint. Didn't expect to get the hint back, though."

"So what now?" Canach asked.

"Joko's dead meat," Damara said, clenching her fists around her bow. "No one makes Taimi cry."

"I agree," Caoilfhionn said. And when Taimi looked up to protest, that they were treating her like a kid, he added: "We'd do the same for anyone in Dragon's Watch. You did the same for me."

"I wouldn't cry unless someone died," Canach said dryly. "And you'd undoubtedly be going after the killer in that instance because they _killed someone_."

"Fair enough," Damara said. "I mean, he's obviously up to something that needs to be stopped. But this is personal." She frowned. "I wonder if it's personal because I flipped him off in the Domain of the Lost. I... um... wasn't thinking. He mentioned that Balthazar had imprisoned him there, but I didn't make the connection that he would get loose when we killed Balthazar." She was visibly becoming more upset as she thought about it. "I'm so sorry, Taimi! This is all my fault!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Canach said sharply. "I have no doubt this Joko is a petty enough bastard to want revenge for that sort of sass, but this seems extravagant even for him. How else did you interact with him?" Canach had seemed annoyed, particularly with Damara, since the beginning of this mission, and Caoilfhionn wondered why, but no clues had been forthcoming.

Damara didn't seem to notice. "Well, I also refused to release him. Flipping him off was just to rub in that I wasn't releasing him. So I guess that's the real issue. Still my fault. But I wasn't going to let him out."

"Of course not," Taimi said. "And knowing what we know now, maybe you should have flipped him off more."

"Next time I see him, I'll put rude words on all my arrows," Damara assured her, and Taimi giggled weakly.

* * *

Caoilfhionn climbed the cliff behind the Olmakhan village after Damara, up in search of Aurene's crystalline glitter. It was the first time he'd seen her that she'd stayed around, albeit at a distance, and he was eager to meet the one he had helped carry to Tarir, if she would let him.

Damara gave a great sigh of satisfaction as she got to the top of the cliff. "Ahh, that's a good climb! Amazing view, except for that giant Inquest blob!" She turned westwards, to the open ocean, shutting Rata Primus out of her sight. "Much better!"

Caoilfhionn chuckled. "If only it were so easy to deal with them."

"Yeah. Hi, Aurene! Are you up here? Can we come say hi?"

An iridescent blue eye-ridge and greenish-gold eye appeared over the edge of the cliff; Aurene was actually sitting on a ledge slightly off the top. Caoilfhionn heard a curious trill – but not too curious. And he could feel in his mind – curiousity, but clouded and alien.

"Yeah, it's Caoilfhionn! Remember him?" Damara walked slowly and softly towards Aurene's ledge. Aurene grumbled to herself and disappeared again. "Aww, come on. We won't be a bother. Come here, lovely." Damara sat on the edge of the cliff and slipped down to Aurene's ledge. "Come on, Caoilfhionn."

"If she doesn't want visitors," Caoilfhionn began.

"She doesn't mind us," Damara assured him, and as he approached, he could see she was gently, delicately stroking the back of Aurene's head as the young dragon watched over the village. "She's just being shy, and grumpy because of the shyness." Aurene snorted, flicking her tail. "Aww, you're growing up too fast. But every mom says that, don't they? Caoilfhionn's the nicest person ever. At least, _I_ think so."

"Kind of you to say," Caoilfhionn said, easing himself down to join them. Aurene stretched her wings nonchalantly, then stood and lay down on her other side, facing them. She was beautiful, her greenish-gold eyes gentle now that they were not glowing defiantly with magic in battle. He'd only caught glimpses of her as an infant, but now she was sleek and powerful, her blue scales shining and glittering in the sun between the clouds. "Hello, Aurene. It's good to finally meet you properly."

Aurene trilled politely, looking at him all over; he had the unsettling feeling that she was looking through him. He bowed back, and she snorted, but there was friendliness in her mind.

"You chose me," he said softly. "I don't know why, but it was my honour to protect you before you were born – mine, and Damara's, and Annhilda's, and Caithe's."

Aurene shifted her wings in a movement reminiscent of a shrug.

"Thank you for warning me about Trahearne," he said, and she dropped her gaze, feeling... regretful? "Sorry, I don't understand?" She... felt she had hurt him, by giving him that terrifying vision? "We were in time, though. Barely, but we made it. We saved him. So, thank you." He smiled. "You've been looking out for me before you were born."

She snorted again, but shifted closer and bumped his hand with her head.

"You're such a sweet girl," Damara said, rubbing her nose and the other side of her head, and Caoilfhionn knelt and began to gently stroke the smooth, pebbly scales. Aurene trilled softly and nudged him harder, and he petted her more firmly.

"Very sweet," he agreed. She was fearsome when striking from the skies, shooting deadly flames at their enemies, but he could feel now how much she loved them. And he loved her too.

* * *

Damara jogged down the docks ahead of Taimi and Gorrik and Phiadi. Faren was waiting there with a big smile and a bigger hug. "Hey!" He was dressed in his normal everyday finery, thankfully, not a bathing suit.

"Well, well, well, my dear!" He picked her up over his head and spun her around, then let her slip down far enough to kiss her. "Delighted to see you. Have you been well?"

"Sorry I'm late," she said, pressing her hands against the fine brocade of his vest. They had set up a date a week ago, but, you know, life got in the way. "Phiadi had to help Taimi's bug-obsessed friend not get arrested for being weird, and I had to be there." Faintly behind her, she heard Gorrik protesting with exasperation. She ignored him entirely.

"Not a problem," he said. "I am afraid I also have to report an obstacle to our afternoon – though hopefully a more pleasant one! Pact Marshal Thackeray has sent a ship with supplies to aid poor ravaged Amnoon. He asked me to receive it personally!"

"Great!" she said. "Thanks, Logan! That's a big responsibility."

Faren puffed out his chest and fixed his hair. "Yes, I assume that's why he sent me with the delegation originally. The ship's been spotted in the harbour; should be arriving soon. Dock six. Would you do me the honour of greeting them with me? It would so buoy the spirits of the locals. Give them a bit of diplomatic pomp."

"Yes, certainly," she said. "Phiadi, do you need my help with Gorrik's stuff?"

"Nah, we'll be fine," Phiadi said. "Taimi, why did you think bringing all this sensitive equipment to Amnoon was a good idea in the first place? Humans don't appreciate tech – especially not gamblers and fishers."

"No! My prized marshmallow mites!" Gorrik exclaimed, as a crate popped open under Phiadi's handling and a swarm of white-yellow bugs swished out of it in a cloud that spread across the beach.

Damara made a silly-scared face at Faren. "That might be our cue to leave."

He'd just been inhaling to say something heroic, but yielded to her gentle tugging. "Oughtn't we to help?"

"Phiadi's very good at keeping things under control, unless she loses her temper," Damara said. "They'll be fine. Really. Look, she's squashing them all with her springer."

"Very well, my lady!" he said, all cheerfulness again. He offered her his arm gallantly, and they set out to walk around the harbour to the opposite side.

Councilor Mayameen was there, and Damara greeted her politely; she'd been overseeing Gorrik's trial, and now apparently she was here to greet the Pact ship. Damara accepted this news complacently, but Faren protested, since he'd been asked to meet the delegation personally... Damara tuned them both out when she saw a familiar figure in white and violet approaching, detaching her arm from Faren's to wave. "Hi, Caoilfhionn!"

"Hello, Damara! Hello, Lord Faren!" Caoilfhionn approached, noted the ship in the distance, and bowed to them all. "What's happening?"

"Perfect timing, Sir Caoilfhionn!" Faren cried. Mayameen had won the argument easily. "The Pact supply ship is here. Come, stand with Damara and me so we can all be seen together."

Caoilfhionn smiled indulgently. "I should be glad to."

Together they waited, chatting idly, Caoilfhionn and Faren swapping fashion gossip, while the ship docked and let down the gangplank. Damara tilted her head to one side. Something didn't look right about the sailors...

Caoilfhionn glanced at her, picking up on her unease. "Do you think something's wrong?"

Couldn't he see...? Maybe he couldn't, with his glasses. "Maybe. Stay sharp."

"Surely nothing could have-" Faren began, as Councilor Mayameen stepped forward to greet the descending delegates, and then they all gasped in horror, for that shambling walk and be-scarabed appearance was out of nightmare.

Mayameen had only time for a short scream before scarabs were upon her, buzzing and devouring. Damara scrabbled at her bow, putting an arrow through the head of another approaching diseased delegate, but there were dozens of scarab carriers on the ship, and the scarabs were flying forwards now in deadly swarms, striking down all but three of the welcoming committee, who managed to flee for their lives. She could shoot all the carriers, but what to do about the scarabs-?

"I say, that's really not cricket-" Faren fumbled for his rapier, making heroic noises, but what good was a rapier going to be either!? He was in the same boat she was.

"Faren, get back!" Damara cried, grabbing his arm before he went charging in, and giving a piercing whistle. "Not crickets at all! Scarabs!" Caoilfhionn was lunging _forward_ , reckless in the belief that he couldn't be infected by the scarabs – and probably also to put his fire spells to work as a melee elementalist. Fire was likely to be of more use here than her arrows, and she huffed in frustration as she tried to figure out what else she could do to stop the bugs. A nearby priestess of Kormir rushed to them, throwing up a shield; she prayed it held against these bugs.

With a roar like a Charr rocket, Aurene swooped overhead, burning a line in the sand that incinerated any scarabs that tried to fly through it. "Aurene! Thank goodness!"

Caoilfhionn was still fighting out there all alone; Damara stuck one of her arrows into a nearby pail of tar and then into Aurene's fire, launching the resulting flaming arrow high into the air – on a trajectory to hit the water when it came down, of course. But almost as soon as she did, she heard Phiadi's springer and Annhilda's raptor behind her. "Oh, thank goodness you're here! Scarabs – on the Pact ship!"

"Got it," Annhilda said. "Stay back!"

But now she had access to fire, thanks to Aurene, and while Annhilda and Phiadi gleefully squashed all the bugs they could see, Damara shot anything humanoid and twitching with flaming arrows. And here was Myran, responding to her whistle, charging into the fray, unbothered by scarabs when he was half flesh-and-blood, half magic-and-sand.

When nothing was moving but her friends, Annhilda turned towards them. "The scarabs are dead! Get to safety!"

"Right," Damara said, but before she could do more than grab at Faren's hand, something sprang up upon the edge of the shore – a giant green apparition of Joko. She gasped and froze.

The apparition spread its hands theatrically. "Presumptuous people of Amnoon! This is the price you pay for declaring your independence!" She heard distant screaming – most of the locals had left, but the cavaliers ought to be arriving any minute... The apparition turned towards her with a leering undead grin. "Well, well, well. Damara, wasn't it? What are you doing here? Small world. Or maybe it's just Joko's getting larger. And now I've acquired the Scarab Plague. The genuine article, this time. Thank you for repeatedly failing to stop me. The carnage to come will be on your head – the final act of your pathetic little tale."

"Not on your unlife!" Caoilfhionn cried, brandishing his sword and his dagger.

"Oh, come on!" Damara said. "Just because I wasn't able to stop you doesn't mean you get to blame me for your horribleness! Jerk!" Remembering what she'd told Taimi, she flipped him off again, eliciting a gasp from Faren. Right, manners. But flipping off Joko... Worth it.

The projection of Joko didn't pay either of them any attention, raising his voice theatrically and gesturing to invisible bystanders. "But first things first: Ten seconds to curtain! Places for Act One, please, places for Act One. Break a leg, people! It's _showtime_! Alive or dead, all serve _me!_ Rise, pets! Rise!" He gestured, and all the corpses Damara and Caoilfhionn had just destroyed began getting up again – they, and the newly-killed Amnoon entourage.

"Sh-!" Damara tried not to swear again. "By Lyssa's- No fair! We already fought them!" Though with Phiadi and Annhilda to help, they would die even faster this time...

And they did, weak and unarmoured and unable to put up much of a defense against the four Dragon's Watch warriors and her sand lion. Swiftly, they crumbled, and Caoilfhionn and Phiadi ensured there was nothing left of the corpses this time. Caoilfhionn scorched them to ash with lightning-fire, and Phiadi turned them into minions of her own, tearing apart the bodies and recycling the flesh and bone she needed. Which was too bad, but better they were a little disrespected now than that Joko take over Amnoon with them. And Phiadi didn't bind souls like Joko did.

But Joko laughed. "Don't slow down now, girl – this show is just getting started! Scene two: enter... Istari, the Inexorable! Discovered her myself. Very talented." A new Awakened appeared from the ship, trotting down the gangplank to the shore, batting Damara's first arrow aside with a sweep of her elaborate staff of bones, tar, and gold. With another sweep of her staff, she knocked down Phiadi's closest minion and cast a pool of tar at her feet. Annhilda immediately backed off, wary that the tar would catch on fire.

"Ugh!" Damara exclaimed. She was going to have to get closer to avoid shooting her friends. "Stay here with the priestess, Faren!"

"But-" She was already past his hasty reach, calling Myran back to her side so he didn't get covered in tar. Caoilfhionn swiped at the tar himself, but Istari did not seem at all bothered by the resulting flames licking about her ankles. She moved forward, clubbing Caoilfhionn across the face with her staff; taken by surprise, he tumbled backwards, as Annhilda stepped in front of him, and fumbled for his glasses in the sand.

What was magic to this undead woman? She blocked Annhilda's sword strike with her staff, knocked Myran away with her staff, impaled two of Phiadi's minions with her staff. What a weird way to use a staff. Damara huffed in frustration and moved again, finally getting three arrows into her... and lodged into her big epaulets, not the fragile-looking skull behind them. Istari grunted with a disdainful look, and came at her, very quickly. Damara scrambled back, sending another volley of arrows in; Istari battered two of them aside with her staff. The third lodged in her ribs and she ignored it, moving ever closer. Damara ran to reposition herself behind Annhilda, feeling vulnerable under that unblinking stare.

Joko interrupted them with another set of elaborate gestures, raising his arms to the sky. "Quintets are divine, but I love a big ensemble number. Scene three: cast of thousands!"

Damara yelped as, if not thousands, at least dozens of undead erupted from the sand, all around them, separating her from her friends, clawing at them all. She couldn't shoot them all fast enough, and grabbed at her sword, slashing at everything rotting in front of her, trusting Myran to watch her back as long as she kept moving, running through the crowd of zombies. Several of them clawed at her leather armour, but their crumbling fingernails scrabbled off the surface.

Joko cackled and then tried to pretend he was racked with sorrow, but it mostly came through as smug. "And now, Damara Biros's poignant death scene. You're welcome."

"You really are a petty jerk!" Damara complained, as zombies grabbed at her arms and she hacked their arms clean off in return. It was getting hard to breathe, with the stench, and she lurched forwards, slashing and slicing, frantic not to get caught in place – she stepped in tar and her boot stuck- "No! Ugh!" If she survived this, she was going to need new boots. More importantly, she beheaded a zombie and felt another latch onto her waist, trying to drag her down-

Then Aurene blitzed by overhead, blasting a jet of white-hot fire through the zombies, somehow missing all her friends, and suddenly she had breathing room again. Caoilfhionn ran through the zombies flanking her, Phiadi blasted the one clinging to Annhilda's shield, and they were clear except for Istari.

"Wh- You brought a _dragon_!?" Joko cried. "There's no dragon in this show!"

"Your show is lame!" Damara yelled, sheathing her sword and nocking more arrows to her bow. Good people lay dead and Joko was just being mean about it. Time to hit Istari hard and fast and put an end to this nonsense...

Joko pouted loudly. "That's cheating. Nobody likes a cheater, girl. What do we do to cheaters, Istari?"

"We put them to death." Istari's voice was grating, and she raised her staff, casting a huge tar spell across the beach. Now everyone had to move carefully or risk tripping from stuck feet. Except for Istari.

"I do believe that makes you a hypocrite," Annhilda slung back at Joko, changing course to try to attack the apparition instead of the undead. Damara didn't think it would do much good, but she was welcome to try! Caoilfhionn had switched to Earth and Water magic, she could see, not wanting to send the entirety of Amnoon up in flames from a stray spark. Phiadi was making infuriated noises, wiping her tar-covered hands on one of her minions.

And Istari was stomping towards her again. _Oh gods. Bow, arrows, hold the shot, hold the shot, her armour's too good_...

"You cannot kill the dead!" Istari grated, raising her staff to whack Damara in the head with the heavy gold blade on the end. Damara growled and headshot Istari right up the gaping hole of her nose. Istari reached up and pulled it out, snapping it-

Damara drew her sword, lunged, and cut her head off.

She could hear the wind, and the waves, and the gulls, and their heavy breathing... and Joko's slow clapping. "And... scene. I do hope you'll join me in Gandara for Act Two, Damara – I've reserved you a front row seat. Exit Joko." The green apparition twirled and vanished into the ground.

"Oh, you just wait," Annhilda said in his former direction. "You'll regret your entire centuries'-long reign of mockery and terror."

Damara put her head down. "Okay. That was too close. No more undead in Amnoon. Please. Except for that weird guy selling statuettes."

"That's Joko!?" cried Faren, trotting up to her, ignoring the tar and scorch marks and undead body parts littering the ground. "Good gods, he's insane!"

"He's worse than when I met him," Damara said, straightening up. "And he really does have a grudge against me." She shivered and Faren put an arm about her with a look of concern.

"We've always lived in the shadow of that lich, hoping he'd leave us be," said the priestess who had come to their aid. "I must alert the rest of the council." She ran off. Caoilfhionn twirled his sword with a spray of water and began trying to wash the tar off the beach, so they could move unhindered. A troop of cavaliers came running up, and Annhilda scolded them for being late.

Taimi and the others came running too, demanding to know what happened. Damara let Phiadi tell them about it and turned to Faren. "Thank goodness we didn't get infected."

Faren's brow furrowed. "That lunatic despot stole the Pact's supplies and murdered my – our countrymen. He _must_ die."

"According to Joko, he _can't_ die," Taimi said. "He just pops back to life like a demented Jack-in-the-box."

"So it's been said, from many accounts," Annhilda said. "Then again, Joko says a lot of things." She grimaced, probably thinking about the library in Istan. "He claims _he_ killed Balthazar."

"Stealing our credit, eh, dear?" Faren squeezed her shoulders. "So: what's our plan?"

"It's not that easy," Damara said. "Humans can catch the plague. If we go to war, our people will have to hang back."

Faren frowned at her. "Seems to me this Joko has already declared war – on us! And I for one am joining the fight!"

"Faren-" Damara heard Taimi ushering the others away; Caoilfhionn hesitated, then followed; Annhilda was the only one who lingered. "Look, I know you want to help-"

There was a determined pout on his face. "You gave me busy work when you faced Balthazar. Not again. Humans have the most to lose here. Honour demands that some one of us join the fight against this monstrosity. And you are the clear choice... but I shall stand at your side. I'm a hero too, you know."

He was unwontedly serious, despite the grandiose words, and she was confused. Had he... maybe... been maturing while she wasn't looking? Being away from home and relatively anonymous in this foreign nation give him perspective on what was important in life? "Well..." She hesitated and sighed. "I... Fine. I don't want you to get hurt." But making him sit out just meant he would go and do something else heroically foolish while she wasn't looking. "You'll stay by me?" She gave him pleading eyes; she'd play on his need to protect to keep him out of deep trouble.

"Yes, of course!" He melted under that look and took both her hands. "Thank you, my dear. No harm shall come to you while I'm near!"

"Thanks," she said, smiling at him. "Now we'd better go figure out what we're going to do about it."

"What about dinner? Will we still be having dinner later?" He'd promised – of his own volition – to treat her to a fancy dinner the next time they got together.

She'd been looking forward to it, looking forward to what might be a normal day for Faren but what would be a totally new experience for her, but right now she made a face. "I'm not really in the mood, after that..."

"Oh, please? We deserve it! We just defended the city from a horrible invasion!" He grimaced. "I wish we could have saved the Krytans and the good councilor, but... 'twas still a victory! And you are tense – what better way to wind down than with a good meal, good wine, and good company?" His fingers twitched against her side, caressing the curve of her waist through her leather armour.

"All right," she said. "Just you and me, right?" She didn't want to have to deal with people looking at her while she processed everything.

He smiled brightly at her. "Of course! Whatever you wish, my sweet."

She blushed. She still wasn't used to that nickname. He really was accommodating and she appreciated it. "I'm going to go with Annhilda to talk to the council, then. Coming?"

"Yes; as the representative of Divinity's Reach, it is my duty. Let's be off!"


	54. Faren's Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I needed to write Faren this time, I borrowed [Incandescent](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SS2jLLnVMy8) from Aviators (although Solaire is better at being a hero than Faren, he's more humble. But I think Faren would like to be like Solaire if he could.)

54: Faren's Moment

Damara and Faren had been assigned to guarding the supply camp; Faren had pouted indignantly at first, before she pointed out that she'd learned she was immune to the plague – having died already – and she was also on guard duty. Then he subsided, though he was restless as he patrolled the camp checking on all his newly-trained volunteers. She was pretty sure she was there to keep him pacified, but she didn't mind.

"How are you so calm?" he asked, the second time he came by her post, where she sat on a pile of boxes with her rock gazelle Gina resting at her feet. "I've always thought of you as boundlessly energetic, oh paragon of rangers. I can't bear this waiting, how can you?"

He was just itching for a chance to show off and spout heroic lines, wasn't he? Like a little boy. He was adorable. She had a great view of the surrounding lands from her vantage point. "Couple things... First, I was in the Vigil; they're super strict on discipline. You _have_ to sit still when they tell you to."

"That sounds dreadful."

"I got used to it. But the other reason is my pets." She smiled down at Gina. "They don't spend energy unless they have to. Some more than others, it's true. But I've learned a lot from watching them. You need a lot of energy to keep up with animals, whether domesticated or semi-wild like a lot of mine are, but you need to save it for the right moment."

He nodded several times. "I see. I will try it. Never let it be said that Lord Faren spent himself too soon!" He sat down near her, also looking out over the approach to the camp, away south to the front lines. He leaned on one of his swords – for some reason, he'd traded his usual rapier for a pair of longswords, which seemed a bit reckless to her, even if they were enchanted, but whatever. And she got to admire his new armour some more. It was pretty big and fancy, but Annhilda had surreptitiously checked it out and told her it was quality armour, under the frills and extra bits. Aesthetically, she liked it quite a bit, but she was relieved that it actually _worked_ , too. And he wasn't trying to do something silly in his underpants. Again.

"Do you think there will be a new god of war?" he asked after a while. "I saw the baskets over Balthazar's statue in Amnoon. When I was last in Divinity's Reach, they had not done the same."

"Balthazar never attacked Divinity's Reach or the heart of Kryta like he did Amnoon and northern Elona," Damara said. "The baskets were over his statue in Amnoon from before we even showed up. But I imagine Queen Jennah doesn't want to stir up unrest among his still-faithful adherents back home, right? Even once they learn that he's dead, if they haven't yet."

"Yes, that was what I heard. And indeed, I only learned what happened to him when I arrived in time for your victory celebration. But it's not the same, swearing by the Five! I keep getting it wrong!"

She chuckled. "Me too. But Aurene and Kralkatorrik ate his energy, so I don't think we'll get a new god until we get a massive release of magic and someone to absorb it. But, thinking about when _I_ was last in Divinity's Reach... I think I'm okay with not having a new god of war. People were so unpleasant to each other under his influence."

"Oh, that's just because the other gods were not around to balance him out, wasn't it?" Faren said, and she had to say that sounded pretty reasonable. "I did see some very fine duels from some under his influence!"

"And no one sustained lasting injuries?" she asked anxiously.

"No, I don't think so... I did not partake in any, if you're worried about me."

"I think Humans are fully capable of fighting without a god of war around to inspire them," she said. And who said there _had_ to be Six Gods? The only thing she wondered about was that four out of the five were female – did Grenth feel outnumbered at all?

"Hm? Damara?" Faren was looking at her curiously. Had she zoned out too much?

"Well, one thing we can all agree on is that Joko isn't, and never will be, a god," she said firmly.

He nodded, preening a little. "Absolutely! He shall never conquer Tyria. He'll regret inviting us here to trounce him!"

"My worst fear would be that he becomes a ghost and keeps pestering us after we told him he can't be a lich anymore."

"That would be dreadful. Has that sort of thing happened before?"

Damara shrugged. "Ask the Priory bunch. I like hearing stories, but I don't remember all the details like they do."

"Speaking of ghosts... those queens are nearly as stunning as our good Queen J, don't you think?"

"Are you really planning to hit on a ghost? On two ghosts?" Damara tried not to smirk too hard.

"My dear! Of course not!" He sounded genuinely shocked. "I fear to incite your wrath!"

"What about the ghosts' wrath?" she asked, but she was teasing. "Yes, they're good looking. Should I dress like that?"

The way he perked up made her wonder if she should regret suggesting it.

Guarding was not the most interesting job, but they did have to fend off a few small attacks from Joko that broke through their main lines. What concerned her more was how quickly Rytlock was going through their stockpiles of blackpowder. Annhilda, acting as Rytlock's second-in-command, was kind enough to keep Damara updated on the state of the front so she knew they were getting somewhere, but still... everything was dwindling quite quickly.

"Soon we won't have anything to guard," Faren said to her, having noticed as well as she did how quickly the crates shifted, even if she didn't keep him posted on _everything_ going on at the front. "Will we run out?"

"I don't know," Damara said. "It's going to be close."

Faren's brow furrowed. "We cannot let our front lines down. We must ensure they're supplied, one way or another!"

She looked at him suspiciously. "What are you thinking of?"

He pointed out into the distance. "I'm certain those torches there are an enemy camp. And with all the Awakened Inquest around, surely they must have something we can use!"

"I'm impressed," she said, peering out into the dim twilight. "I figured it was a camp, but I wasn't yet thinking of stealing their stuff. I told Annhilda she should use the Phoenix Dawn to ferry in more from Amnoon, but she's worried about the trebuchets, and it's a bit late now."

"Exactly why we should go ourselves!"

"Hold on!" she cried, before he could go marching off. "We still have to make sure nothing happens to the stuff still _here_."

"No need!" he said, beaming triumphantly. "Our soldiers will hold this camp while we go to raid theirs!"

"The two of us? By ourselves? And how are we going to carry everything back?"

Faren deflated slightly. "But... we are heroes. We can take them on! I will admit I forgot about the carrying. And I don't know how much we'll need."

"Or even if what we need is there," she said. "Faren, hon, I might be a hero, but I've never done it alone." Shaemoor she'd done alongside Logan. Protecting Queen Jennah she'd done beside Logan again, Mabbran, Phiadi, and even Caoilfhionn. She'd barely been present for the critical part of fighting Zhaitan, though she did save Annhilda there... and in fighting Mordremoth she'd dealt with grunts while her friends did the main battles.

Okay, there was the part where she killed Balthazar. But even that was with Aurene, and using Rytlock's sword.

"But we must do _something_!" Faren exclaimed, pacing impatiently in front of her. "For Kryta's honour!"

She thought for a moment, then held up a finger. "I'll tell you what we can do. We can _scout_ the camp, and see what they have. If they do, then we can come back with the rest of our troops, since I think Rytlock will have cleaned us out by then."

He punched his fist into his palm exuberantly, then grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Truly, you are a jewel among tacticians! Let's go!"

What did that even _mean?_ His armour was making a racket, as he jogged off down the hill. "Faren! Scouting mission! Try to stay _quiet!_ "

"Right! Sorry!"

She grabbed the next-highest-ranking officer, explained what was going on, and ran after him, Gina bounding beside her.

* * *

On the other side of Canach's impressive vine wall, the land was pretty hilly, but growing less so towards the southern shore, and increasingly barren. It was like Joko didn't _like_ living things. Well, Awakened might be able to live without food or water, but it was pretty depressing, in Damara's opinion! But the real problem was going to be getting through unseen. Many of the Awakened seemed rather near-sighted, archers aside, and it was well dark out, but with _no_ cover whatsoever, and Faren in full plate... "Stay close," she whispered, and glided ahead cautiously, a hand on Gina's back.

He was trying, but he still clanked everywhere, and huffed and puffed on top of it. It seemed to take forever to get close to the enemy camp, partly because she kept stopping to check for enemy reactions. This was much more nerve-wracking than it had to be, honestly...

They made it to just beyond the edge of the torches without being detected, creeping at a snail's pace. She didn't know about him, but her heart was beating pretty quickly. This was a job for a Whispers agent like Phiadi, not them. Now they crouched in the dark, near a small pile of stones, peering across the dark ground to the piles of crates stacked up on the other side of the camp, and the small figures of undead Asura hanging around them.

"There aren't that many," Faren whispered in her ear. "We should signal for back-up and attack at once!"

"There's probably more than we can see," Damara answered grimly, trying not to be distracted by her enjoyment of his proximity. "Inquest tend to be small and sneaky. And they could call for reinforcements easily."

They watched more. Did those crates have what they were looking for? Was there a way to tell instead of waiting for the Asura to open one, which might never happen? She could feel Faren being tense beside her, almost jittering. It made her relax physically more than she might have normally, trying to counteract his energy, though she was still plenty on edge internally.

Faren had just braced himself to stand, and she grabbed his arm hard, because she had seen unusual movement from the back of the camp. A big Awakened had emerged from the dark, followed by two waddling Asuran guards, giving orders and gesturing, and others were shuffling the crates around... prying them open... yes, that looked like explosives!

"That's it!" Faren whispered, much too loudly for her comfort. "Let's go!"

She kept hold of his arm. "We need to get back-up! That was the plan!"

"There's no time, they're taking them away! We must sweep in now and take them unawares-"

"Oi!" A shout came from behind them, and Damara whirled to see an Awakened mummy stumbling towards them. "Got some live ones here-!"

Faren sprang up, drawing his swords and slicing the mummy in half dramatically. "Begone with you!"

Every head in the camp whipped around to their direction. "I think we're in trouble!" Damara said, grabbing her bow, scanning the terrain back towards the allied zone. It was clear for now-

" _Charge!_ " Faren yelled, and she spun back around to see him running off into the torchlight.

" _Faren-!_ " Oh _gods_ why was she dating this maniac? She nocked arrows to her bow as fast as she could loose them from her kneeling position, trying to take down every spellcaster or electrorifle-wielder she could see. She couldn't be distracted by watching him in action, even though he was doing really well, slicing through the undead in his path.

Now they'd seen not just Faren's mad assault but that she was picking them off before they could get to him, and shots began to come in her direction instead. She was going to have to move up behind him, they couldn't get separated now. She rose fully to her feet and moved forward, still loosing arrows back. "Okay, go get 'em, Gina! Go help Faren!" Her gazelle bounded forward, trampling Awakened Inquest with her stony hooves.

The big Awakened was confronting Faren. "Foolish humans... so eager to die, you've come to us!"

"But it is you who will die this day! -Night!" Faren cried, engaging the brute in single combat. He was having the time of his life, wasn't he? "For I am Lord Faren of Kryta and I shall lay you low!"

"Empty words for a fop who'll soon be fodder for scarabs," said the Awakened, and she winced at the sounds of clashing metal.

But she couldn't do much else than offer encouragement, kill the ranged enemies, and wait for a shot of her own. She didn't want to draw her own sword and get in the way. "Get him, hon!"

"As milady commands!" Faren ducked a swipe and parried the Awakened's sword into the ground, then went for a lunge, but the Awakened had already recovered with its huge strength, parrying Faren into spinning all the way around. Damara tried not to gasp, leaving Gina to deal with the Inquest, and took a opportunistic shot into the Awakened's chest. She got it in the shoulder, at least, throwing off its follow-up attack while Faren was vulnerable.

And now Faren was recovered, slashing at its arm while it was flinching from Damara's strike. He didn't manage to cut it off, but it growled and its arm fell limp, and he struck again with his other sword, running it through with a shout. "Ha- _ha!_ There!"

The Awakened fell with a gurgle. "Fools... There are still... the scarabs..."

"Nicely done, Faren!" Damara told him, and he brightened like a puppy. "I think we're clear to grab a box or two, but let's be quick – he's not wrong about the scarabs."

"Fear not, doubt not, my dear!" he cried, sheathing his swords and reaching for the top crate, the one they'd already seen was full of explosive devices. "I shall defend you to the end!"

Such a declaration made her very uncomfortable. She would hate for Faren to die, even defending her. Maybe especially defending her. But telling him that would seem... callous, somehow. Ungrateful to the sentiment. "Just be careful, okay? We're all going to make it out of this alive." She popped the lid on the next crate, saw it was filled with the same, and picked it up to follow.

And paused to listen. There was a... buzzing...-!

"Run!" she shrieked. "They're coming!"

Faren's eyes widened, he wasn't that much a heroic fool that he'd stick around when he'd seen what they could do, and together they began to dash back towards the vine wall. She couldn't tell how much of a lead they had over the scarab swarms, but she felt they were going too slowly... Maybe they should leave the crates-!

Movement bounded with a familiar undulating rhythm out of the darkness ahead, and suddenly Rhyoll and Rox were with them. "Rhyoll! Rox! There's – scarabs!"

"Yep, just like I thought!" Rhyoll said. "Light 'em up, Rox!" With a huge _fwoooosh_ , the night ignited in flames. Flamethrowers, Damara acknowledged distractedly, taking advantage of their fiery cover to make it a little closer to safety. There was a whole squad of Olmakhan running past them, now, though only Rhyoll and Rox had the flamethrowers. She could hear Rhyoll's booming laughter echoing across the hills. "And let me show you another feature – the wide-spray nozzle!" The tone of the fire changed, and she glanced back to see a veritable pillar of fire erupting in the night, slowly waving back and forth as Rhyoll scythed it around.

She giggled a bit to herself with what was left of her breath. Were there even any scarabs left to challenge him? He'd clear out the entire plain single-handedly at this rate!

Then a blade came out of the darkness on her left side, aimed at her head-

 _Clang!_ Somehow, Faren had seen it while she was distracted and blocked the strike with his vambrace, dropping his crate to the ground to spring in front of her. Gina gave a short scream like only a gazelle could, punting the Awakened attacker away with a headbutt from her stony horns, but there were more-! Faren couldn't get to his swords before they were charged, and he let out a horrible grunt and Damara heard a dreadful sound that she knew all too well.

" _Faren!_ " she screamed, drawing her sword with the moments he'd bought with the shield of his body. He fell past her to the ground, but she was striking his attacker, enraged and upset. She'd kill every Awakened on the field if he'd been slain! She battered their weapons away with brute force, hacking them inelegantly to pieces. The Olmakhan were returning, hurrying to aid her, but she didn't need their help. She was covered in disgusting bits of dried flesh and she didn't care as long as the undead became really dead by her sword.

When the last one had fallen in rasping denial, she flailed around to get back to Faren's side. One Olmakhan had knelt beside him, putting healing spells on him. "Faren! Oh gods, is he all right? Dwayna, please..."

"He'll be all right," said the Olmakhan, then lifted her head and sniffed. "Scarabs coming back, though, and I don't know how much Rhyoll's weapons have left in them. Let's move."

Before they could take him from her, she grabbed his arm and hauled him over her shoulders in a firefighter carry. "Get the explosives!" She ran for the wall, not waiting for the sound of buzzing insects to spur her on. "Oh, Faren, why did you..."

His head was bouncing near her shoulder, and she heard him take a breath. "'Tis my duty to protect you, my... fairest... dove."

Oh gods. He was back to calling her silly pet names. He really was badly hurt. She wasn't going to cry! He wasn't dead! "Hang on. I'm getting you out of here."

"But... the explosives..."

"The Olmakhan have them. Just don't die on me!"

"Never, my brave maiden... You were not joking about your strength." His voice was pained, yet he wouldn't _shut up_ and concentrate on _not dying_. "I daresay you're the strongest Human I've ever met."

Because she could carry him with adrenaline surging in torrents through her veins, with a horrific death waiting if she slowed down the slightest? She could hear them now, and that pushed her on. She'd seen other Humans do similar things in the Vigil... had lost some of them. Panic had a way of motivating one's body past its limits. Sure-footed, she ran on, charging towards the vine wall and safety. There was the peak with Rytlock's command post... there was the path upwards... elementalists on guard, thank the _gods_... and she collapsed, panting her lungs out, in the middle of the camp.

"What's going on?" Rytlock barked at her. "Got himself in trouble, did he?"

Damara shook her head, wheezing for air, as she heard the elementalists light up the scarab swarms. She had dumped Faren unceremoniously on the ground and fallen half on him, completely spent. "Both of us... in trouble... Saved me... Got explosives... Rox..."

Rox was actually right behind her, with one of the crates. "Right here. Look what they got for us, Rytlock!" Another Olmakhan proffered the other.

Rytlock sniffed the crates. "Hm. It'll do. We ran out half an hour ago. Good job, take five."

"Going to need... a few more... than five," Damara panted, but she was getting her air back. "Faren needs... medical attention."

Faren looked up and grinned painfully. "I'd do it again, upon my honour!"

"Yeah, yeah, hero-boy," Rytlock said, pointing in the direction of the medical tent. "Let me know when you have proper scars instead of waxed legs."

"Can't I have both?" Faren said, and Damara rolled her eyes and picked him up again wearily, heading in the direction of the tent. She laid Faren down on the nearest available cot and grabbed bandages herself.

"Faren, oh, Faren, seriously, why did you do that?" Now that the edge was coming off the adrenaline, she was starting to shake a little, though she managed to keep her hands fairly steady. She'd almost lost him. She couldn't tell if this whole mission had been vital or foolish. Or, as with so much that Faren did, both.

He opened his eyes to look at her a little petulantly as she unbuckled and carefully removed his armour. "I told you, my dear. I must protect you." He gently reached out and touched the armour in the centre of her chest, the... the place Balthazar had run her through while she lay helpless. He'd seen it, of course, in bed, the deep gouge in her flesh over her sternum, dark reddish-black-brown with pale edges against her warm brown skin, a wound that no one could survive. There was even a matching exit scar on her back. She hadn't known how deeply it had affected him.

She paused before cutting off his tunic around his wounds – of course he was wearing a silk tunic under his armour – and leaned down to kiss him, trying more than ever not to cry. "Love you, hon." He was... foolish, and showy, and they still didn't quite fit together personality-wise – but his courage and selflessness was genuine. It always had been. That was why she'd always liked him, even when he annoyed her.

He looked surprised as she pulled back. She'd never said it before, nor had he. "O-of course. I love you too, my dear." She sniffled a little and he patted her hand where it rested on his chest. "Do not look so, please! Remember I am the handsomest, most courageous, most daring boyfriend you've ever had!"

She giggled through her sniffles and wiped her eyes. "Yes, you are. Good boy."

She heard stomping noises from behind her. "Damara! What the hell were you doing? I'm not surprised Faren would do something like this, but you-"

She looked up at Annhilda with a defensive glare. "Give me a minute to patch him up before you chew me out, okay!"

"Mistress Annhilda," Faren said weakly. "The day needed saving. For Kryta... and Amnoon. So we did what we had to." While he was being dramatic, she could tell he wanted to be much more dramatic about it, and was holding back so she wouldn't worry so much.

"We had a better plan, but you know what they say," Damara said. Now she could see – he'd been stabbed twice, in the left shoulder and side. The Olmakhan healing had stemmed the flow of blood a little, but it wasn't completely closed. She checked inside each stab and scrape, but she didn't see any scarab eggs. He'd been lucky, as far as she knew – she actually hadn't witnessed many people getting infected so she didn't know exactly what she was looking for. But he didn't seem sick. He winced at it, but there wasn't much choice. At least now she could start bandaging before he lost any more blood.

"You disobeyed orders, both of you," Annhilda said sternly.

"We _had_ to," Faren said. Dramatically.

"Actually, it did work out," Damara said. "Rytlock said we ran out of explosives half an hour ago. We got more. No one died. Faren saved my life, in fact."

"I see," Annhilda said. "All right. Faren... you did good. And thanks for keeping my friend alive."

"It was my duty and pleasure," Faren said.

"Damara, will you be able to come for the final fight? We'll need everyone immune to the plague we can get, and you're among that number."

Damara gave a deep sigh. She was still tired. "How soon?"

"As soon as possible. We can't let up the pressure. Of course, if you're too tired to fight effectively, you should stay here. Don't want to lose you now."

"Just let me have some coffee," Damara said, tying off the bandages. The Elonian delicacy had been a literal eye-opener ever since she'd arrived in the region. Faren had shrugged at it – of course the nobles in Divinity's Reach could afford to import such things – but she could certainly use it now. That would keep her going long enough to get revenge on the guy who wanted revenge on her.

Annhilda nodded. "All right. Come when you're ready. We'll start without you. Who knows, you'll probably save the day again." She grinned and left the tent.

Damara stroked Faren's forehead after she finished tying off the last bandage. "I'm going to go with her, okay?"

"Yes, of course, my dazzling darling," Faren said, reaching up to touch her face tenderly. "You represent Humanity now. I have done my part. I made you proud, right?"

He was asking her? After telling her how handsome and brave he was? She bent down to kiss him again. His mouth was warm and comforting. "So proud. You were great. I'll kill Joko and be back as quick as I can. Rest up."


	55. Who We Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final soundtracks! [God-Shattering Star](https://youtu.be/ZZDpxx1pa4k) from FE3H for the Joko fight, because that seems like his kind of drama. :P [Dive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fTTiyhGhPQ) from Mystic Pop-up Bar is Caoilfhionn's final reunion song - and kind of the theme for this whole story! It just fits so well! I didn't plan it that way! But I ended up quoting it in the story although the English words don't fit the rhythm of the song at all. Trahearne's reunion song, by contrast, is [Love Resembles Memories](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWSGqDvEvjU) from the same show! Couple songs that didn't really get used for anything specific would be the male version of [Magnet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnY6HuwQg04) (for the boys together) and Mark Knopfler's [Irish Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PA2DtKsKoT0) (for Caoilfhionn).
> 
> Damara wears Tier 2 Human cultural armour btw. I really like it and I'm a little sad that my only Human character is a Guardian, I'm not a huge fan of Human heavy armour.
> 
> Shockingly, Joko's right about something: Canach is probably more suited. He would be her equal and they already understand each other better. But that's a story for another time.
> 
> This is probably the gooshiest thing I've ever written. :D Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. [Happy Wintersday!](http://www.adhemlenei.com/2020/12/18/christmas-2020/)

55: Who We Are

Caoilfhionn looked up from the battle, just for a moment, to see Annhilda returning, and Damara with her alongside her rock gazelle. That was a relief. Rox had already told him how Lord Faren had taken a wound for Damara. That had won Caoilfhionn's respect for him completely! He had thought Faren rather bubbleheaded, but he himself would do no less for his own love.

Braham turned away from the fight to complain to Annhilda. "Annhilda, Canach's trying to sneak the explosives past their front line. Thinks he's back in the Shining Blade."

Canach appeared at his shoulder. "Couldn't make it all the way to the front gate."

Annhilda pointed. "What about the towers?"

Canach folded his arms. "What _about_ them?"

And they exploded. Masonry cracked and came crashing down, smashing across the high bridge that led to Joko's front gate. The foundations shook, splintering under the weight of the ruins above them. But the bridge itself held.

Damara laughed. "That was amazing!"

Canach's expression lightened around the eyes. He might still be mysteriously annoyed with Damara, but her laughter never failed to make him happy, Caoilfhionn had noted. "Our Awakened friends are scattered. I suggest we get in there before they manage to pull themselves together."

"There's our opening!" Annhilda bellowed over the field. "This is our moment! Let's go kick in Joko's front door! _Who's with me!?_ "

"Ah yes, Annhilda's patented foot key," Canach murmured, eliciting another laugh from Damara.

A cheer rose from the army, Olmakhan, Asura, Sylvari, ghosts alike. Caoilfhionn twirled his sword and blinked into battle in the vanguard of the charge.

As they drew closer to the gate, Canach dusted his hands together. "Wonderful gate. It _would_ be a shame if somebody blew a giant hole in it."

"Well, get to it!" Annhilda said. "We'll hold the Awakened off you!"

"Fabulous," Canach said, and ran to the door.

Of course, Braham and Rox both pestered the ex-terrorist to hurry – the way Rytlock and Zaeim had in Fahranur – and Canach told them in his usual way to be patient. Or to shove off, which to Canach was pretty well the same thing. Caoilfhionn tried to ignore all of them, only focused on slaying the enemy as fast as they came. And they came fiercely, determined to protect their fortress. Damara was shooting archers off the walls if they dared stick their heads out, and Annhilda was with her using her own new bow. Braham was projecting magical shields over Dragon's Watch to protect them from the arrows the two archer women could not prevent. There were Awakened on foot from all sides, too, though, and Caoilfhionn was busy, tearing through them with Fire and Lightning, Phiadi behind him to tear what remained of the Awakened's life force from their bodies and twist their flesh to her own uses. When a great conglomeration of bones and tar rose before them, Rhyoll blew its head off with a missile and laughed.

"Is this a bad time?" Canach asked, popping up suddenly at Annhilda's elbow.

"Canach, get back to work!" she barked, kicking a mummy in the face and then shooting it. "We can handle this!"

"Oh, I finished rigging the gate ages ago," Canach said, slicing an enemy archer in half with his whipsword. "Got bored, so I figured I'd help you lot."

"Not funny," Braham growled.

"Agree to disagree," Canach said calmly. "Care to do the honours, Annhi-"

" _Just blow the damn gate, Canach!_ " Annhilda raged, smashing another mummy with her shield, and obligingly, the gate exploded in a massive fireball.

Caoilfhionn smiled. "Better work than the last time you blew something up, Canach."

"Oh, hush," Canach groused back. "Rytlock and Zaeim were distracting me then. And the ruins were in a much greater state of disrepair."

And then they caught sight of the shambling horrors behind the gate. A few scattered scarabs fluttered out, but behind them stumbled a horde of humanoid forms, their skin bulging and crawling with their colonies of scarabs.

" _Third generation_ ," breathed Gorrik, and while it was hard to tell if his voice were filled with fascination or fear, past evidence suggested to Caoilfhionn the former.

"Quick!" yelled Braham, flinging a magical shield over the gate; Taimi was right with him with an energy field generated by Scruffy.

"Force fields won't hold forever," Taimi yelled to Annhilda. "What's Plan B?" Already the plague carriers were pounding against the shields, brainlessly, with low rasping moans.

The ghosts of the Primeval Queens swept past them, their army streaming across the bridge. "Leave it to us, mortals," said Queen Nahlah said, a hand on her hip.

"Find another way in," said Queen Dahlah, mirroring her sister. "And give our regards to dear Joko." The ghosts behind them surged forward eagerly, their whispering murmur growing to a shout as they streamed past the barriers into the waiting plague carriers.

Braham waved to Annhilda. "Hey, I saw sewer gates into the fortress earlier. Maybe we can get through one while they're distracted!" He ran off, jumping from the bridge landing to the tar bubble shells below.

"Braham- Braham!" Annhilda groaned. "Damara. Caoilfhionn. Go after him. Nahlah, Dahlah, keep it up, we'll be back in a moment! Everyone else, fall back to Rytlock's position and regroup!"

* * *

Caoilfhionn bounded lightly across the stones and tar. "That was reckless, Braham!"

"And?" Braham demanded, not breaking pace.

"And... let's go find Joko," Damara said, relenting as quickly as always.

"That's what I thought," Braham said. "'Can't die'... Everything can die. Only question is how."

"Between the three of us, we should be able to figure it out," Damara said. "Anyway, what the heck, I've already managed to salvage one botched mission into sort of a success today, why not another?"

"This isn't botched, not yet," Caoilfhionn said, before Braham could take offense. "Is that the sewer you were talking about?"

"Sure is. Phew! Looks like there's worse than sewage in it."

The sewer was discoloured strangely, and Caoilfhionn did _not_ want to know what had caused it to look the way it did... nor why there was so much tar oozing through it.

And on the other end, on the other side of a door, Damara stopped dead. "Is that... me?"

"Didn't know you had a twin," Braham said.

Damara shook her head slowly, staring in horror at the body that looked exactly like her – down to the armour. The dead Damara had crawled down a hallway lined with prison cells, dragging a thick trail of blood behind her. But the cells were also filled with dead Damaras.

"I don't understand," Caoilfhionn said. "All these bodies... they're all you. Mesmer magic?"

Damara wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. "I know Joko's a sick bastard, but I didn't realize he was _this_ obsessed. By Grenth, you decline to resurrect a guy _one time_..."

"My enemies burn me in effigy, but I've never inspired this level of... whatever this is," Braham said. "By the Spirits!"

They'd entered a new room on the far side of the jail cells, a torture chamber filled with devices, some of which Caoilfhionn had only seen in Priory documents, and some he could only guess at. Several bodies were still bound in place, and he ached for them. How awful it was, to see his friend dead in so many ways – when he had seen her dead once already! But how had Joko duplicated Damara?

He glanced at the table in the corner of the room, for the sake of looking not at dead Damaras, and saw a ring, a magical ring, he could tell just from looking. He picked it up.

"What's that?" Damara asked, leaning over his shoulder. She was a little taller than him, she could do that.

"I think I read about this," Caoilfhionn said. "An ancient skill signet, I think."

"Didn't think anyone used those anymore," Braham said. "What's it do?"

Caoilfhionn slipped it on and flexed, both physically in his fingers and magically, and the room changed in appearance. Every dead body changed face and clothing. No longer did Damara lie sprawled on every torture rack, but random ordinary people. "An illusion! I knew it. But we have no mesmers with us, so this will have to do."

"Oh, thank the Spirits, they're just regular dead people," Braham said. "I mean... you know what I mean. No one deserves this."

"So many people died just because Joko hated me," Damara said, her voice shaking. Her gazelle pressed close to her side.

Caoilfhionn shook his head at her. "Joko has killed so many. He would have killed these people regardless of his twisted fetishes. You are not responsible for his madness."

"I wanna get out of here," Damara said, but just then the ring flickered, and the enchantment ended. "There doesn't seem to be a door, but there wasn't really another one the way we came, so there must be one here. I thought I saw a switch a minute ago, can you do that again?"

"Clever," Caoilfhionn said, activating the ring again and following her to the switch that became visible. "And unnecessary... though I suppose it prevents escape quite effectively..." They all shuddered in unison.

And on the other side of the door was a bunch of traps. Flame jets lined the floor, lasers beamed from the walls and ceiling – at least before the signet's enchantment wore off again. Caoilfhionn frowned at it. This was going to be somewhat tedious to concentrate on in the midst of everything else he did.

Damara stopped abruptly as the green shadow of Joko rose from the floor before them. "Damara, I'm insulted. I invite you to the biggest battle the world has ever seen-"

Braham charged. "Die, you fiend!"

His mace passed harmlessly through Joko's projection and smashed into the wall, leaving a cracked indentation in the stone. Joko stared at him for a second, then continued talking to Damara. "...and you show up with an idiot Norn and a nerdy Sylvari? I feel like you're not even trying." Caoilfhionn disagreed with the 'biggest battle' part, he'd read of many larger battles in the Priory archives...

Damara shrugged. "Left my friends and their army on your doorstep."

"Oh, I know," Joko said. "They'll be my army soon enough. I hope you feel at home; I spent so much time preparing for you. Nice to have a reason to break out the crystal." He laughed uproariously, then stopped frighteningly abruptly. "Enough waiting. Joko's bored. Let's pick up the pace." He vanished as swiftly as he'd appeared.

"I'm actually with the lich," Braham said. "Enough screwing around. Can't wait to get my hands around his bony neck."

"If he wanted us to get to him faster, he shouldn't have filled these hallways with traps," Damara said, picking her way through flames and lasers just ahead of Caoilfhionn. "Aren't you coming, Braham?"

Braham eyed the traps. "I don't trust them. You can trust Caoilfhionn and his magic ring if you like. I'll wait for you to turn them off."

"I'll try," Damara said. "Gina, stay with Braham! You don't know how to dodge these traps! I guess this is what he meant by 'preparing'. I can't imagine him waltzing down here every time he wants to torture another illusion of me to death."

By the Tree, there were too many close calls to count. Both Caoilfhionn and Damara had their own magic to aid their speed and protect against fire, yet Damara was burned by a laser, stifling a scream as the red-white light burned through her glove, and Caoilfhionn's robes got singed. But they made it to the other side and hit the switch, and while they waited for Braham and the gazelle to catch up, Caoilfhionn cast healing spells on them both.

Joko taunted them all the further they moved into his fortress, assaulting them next with his 'favourite' Awakened, more traps, and puzzles that really weren't hard enough to be puzzles at all. Not even for Braham, who had no interest in puzzles.

"He thinks he's so funny," Braham growled, as they worked on a straightforward 'puzzle' involving lasers and rotating stone discs.

"He's not," Caoilfhionn agreed. "He's a murderer."

"If he _wasn't_ a murderer, he might be funny," Damara said. "But I'm pretty sure he's just crazy."

"Oh, Damara! You're hurting my feelings!" Joko's apparition boomed at them, crying fake tears. "As if your boyfriend doesn't act just the same!"

Damara looked confused. "My boyfriend is Lord Faren. He doesn't act like that at all. He's a good person – not like you."

Joko gasped. "What? Not _him!_ Oh, dear, no no no. What a terrible choice. Why didn't you go for the overgrown choya?"

They looked at each other. "...Is he talking about Canach?" Braham asked.

"Yes! That's the one. The sassy green one who blew up my trebuchets and towers. He'd be a much better choice for you. He's _much_ more interesting. And cleverer. Not that that's difficult."

"That's absolutely none of your business," Damara had begun saying halfway through Joko's statement, and said repeatedly, increasingly loudly, with the most indignation Caoilfhionn had ever seen in her. "None of your business, none of your business, none of your business, none of your business!"

Joko's projection shrugged. "Not that it matters. You'll all serve me in... well, as soon as you get here. Chop chop!"

Finishing the puzzle had opened the door to the next chamber; Caoilfhionn could see the soft glow of starlight from a great window ahead. Together, he and Damara ran ahead, with Braham hurrying after them as quickly as he could.

And Caoilfhionn froze, and Damara and her gazelle beside him. Not under their own volition, but they had activated some spell upon crossing the threshold of the door. All he could move was his eyes, not even his mouth. Ahead of them was a massive arch that opened onto a raised balcony beyond which he could see the beautiful night sky; around the sides of the room was machinery that worked the flame traps in the middle of the room. A large desk was at the back of the room, under the balcony, and Palawa Joko rose from it and came forward to look curiously at them. Or at least at Damara. Caoilfhionn was certain Joko didn't care one whit about him in comparison.

He was an undead, like his minions, a lich with burning bright blue eyes, decked in linen, gold, lapis lazuli, and tar-covered bones. Caoilfhionn's attention was drawn to his hands and bare feet; the nails had been distorted into bestial claws.

"How disappointing," he said. "And honestly, unexpected. I thought you were smarter than this. Sub-Commander of the Pact, Hero of blah-blah-blah, rendered useless by a glorified parlor trick."

"Oh no you don't!" Braham roared from behind, and Caoilfhionn heard his footsteps pound on the stone. "Give him one for me, you two!"

Caoilfhionn felt a huge shove, and he and Damara each were pushed out of the spell and into the room. Behind them, Braham was trapped, frozen in the act of pushing, a determined growl etched on his face.

Joko snorted derisively. " _That's_ your ace in the hole? Morons so besotted with you they're willing to sacrifice themselves? Haven't enough people already died for you?"

"No more," Damara said. "You're just a distraction from the real problems. Braham's not dying here. We're gonna beat you up for him – and for Taimi."

"And that's what it's all been about, eh, Damara?" Joko said, raising his staff and pacing back towards his desk. "You and I – two comets on a collision course. War. Plague. Gods. Dragons. I've seen them all. They come and they go. Like the tides. But a worthy nemesis... _that_ is rare indeed."

Damara loosed an arrow at him. "Shut up! Time to learn how to die!"

"An historic moment! When I stood toe-to-toe with the destroyer of dragons. The executioner of gods. The greatest villain in the history of the world!"

"I _said_... shut up!" Damara yelled, darting past his spell and loosing another three arrows in rapid succession.

"I'm not sure he's physically capable," Caoilfhionn said, blinking forward to close with Joko, but Joko did not seem bothered at all by his flames, and teleported away before Caoilfhionn could get a second strike on him.

He might have expected Joko to be offended, but Joko seemed to be smiling still. "I'm glad we have this time together. Admit it, the Norn is never this fun."

Caoilfhionn had a lot to keep track of. The flame vents in the floor were going off in patterns, which he could track... if he didn't mind losing track of Joko... and the bodyguards Joko was summoning from niches in the corners of the room... and the magic ring that he had to keep using. Damara was trying to keep the bodyguards off him, fortunately, but he still had to be quick on his feet as Lightning itself, ducking Joko's spells, darting past flame traps, weaving Earth into his spells for a little extra durability just in case he slipped up...

"Ugh, I don't even want to fight _you_ ," Joko said, teleporting away from him. "I mean, yes, you will all fall before me and serve me, but Damara, is this really how you fight? However did you beat Balthazar, hiding behind your teammates all the time? Your form is terrible, too."

Damara grunted. Caoilfhionn was glad she had decided to adopt the same strategy as him – to save her breath for fighting. Joko only wanted to distract, to elicit reactions for his own twisted sense of humour, so wit was wasted on him.

Joko split into multiple images; Caoilfhionn triggered his ring. "That one, Damara!" He spun away, giving her a clear shot to nail Joko in the chest. Which she did with one of her blindingly-rapid volleys.

Joko shrugged and raised his arms, and a buzz rose from the back of the room. Damara spun. "Braham-!" But the scarab swarm was not attacking Braham, only diving straight at them.

"Get behind me, Damara!" Caoilfhionn shouted, feeling one of her protective spells suffuse both of them as he cast a wall of flame before him. It was difficult, without a focus, to hold the spell in place, to keep the flames high enough to cover them, but he burned a hole through the wave of scarabs, and the bugs mindlessly escaped out of the window. Caoilfhionn panted for air and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Joko was _still_ talking. "While we're having this little chat... Who dresses you? I mean, really? You wore _that_ for this occasion?" Caoilfhionn knew he was stylish by any standard, but he took offense on Damara's account – he liked her armour with its asymmetrical panels of leather scales.

"Caoilfhionn, look out!" Damara cried, shooting at something behind him, and he felt something explode, knocking him forwards – into a flame trap. He rolled through it, jumping up to see huge fat scarabs scuttling along the floor towards them. He was vulnerable to them with his sword, so he exhaled... and ran. Damara would have to take care of them. He swatted at his leaves, at the singed feeling on the back of his head. It stung but he would live. One by one, she shot the huge scarabs, and they exploded in bursts of biochemical fire.

"Well, this is productive," Joko jibed at them. "Oh look, your norn's crying."

That caught Damara's attention, and she glanced over - "Damara!" Caoilfhionn cried, but he was too late, for the last scarab had scurried up to her and detonated itself, knocking her backwards – into one of Joko's spells. She collapsed with barely a pant of air.

" _Damara!_ " Caoilfhionn shouted, blinking to her side, heedless of the danger. She looked at him, struggling for air, helpless. The scarabs were dead, the bodyguards were fallen, but Joko was readying another spell. But if Caoilfhionn didn't get Damara back on her feet _that moment_ , Joko would kill her...! He channeled Water into her, shielding himself with Earth against the inevitable, blocking Joko's shot with his own body. Joko raised his staff-

" _Palawa Joko!_ " came a shout from the balcony. Joko's attack went wide, smashing into the wall instead.

Caoilfhionn lifted his head with his whole face wreathed in smiles. "Trahearne!" For his love was standing in the opening of the balcony, tall and commanding, dressed as he always used to, with fierce eyes and Caladbolg shining like a sunbeam – a Caladbolg sprouting and blooming in his hands. His face and leaves pulsed with magenta luminescence, strong and healthy.

He had last seen him angry, doubting himself and the world, unstable and out of balance. Now he could feel his anger, but it was a righteous anger, and balanced by the confidence veritably radiating from him. By the _Tree,_ Caoilfhionn fell in love all over again.

Trahearne leapt lightly to the floor of the chamber and crossed over to them as Joko stared. "Has he hurt you badly, Caoilfhionn?"

Caoilfhionn finished his spell and began to help Damara up. "He made Taimi cry."

Trahearne nodded gravely. "I did not need another reason to kill him, but I accept it." As Caoilfhionn stood, Trahearne took his hand and laced their fingers together.

Joko rolled his eyes. "Trahearne? The idiot who went running off to fight Mordremoth face to face without realizing he was literally its grandson? I mean, it had the right idea with its Mordrem."

Caoilfhionn tensed to attack, but Trahearne said with dangerously measured wrath: "Your necromancy is a crime against decency and magic – a travesty of true necromancy. I realize that means nothing to you, and that is why we will end you. Together, as we ought."

Caoilfhionn gently squeezed the hand he held. "We've slain dragons and gods. We're not afraid of you. We never have been."

Joko simpered at them. "Aww, the sad spinach and the delicate flower are mad at me. Well, tough luck!" Caoilfhionn blinked. Trahearne was much more of a prayer plant than a spinach.

Trahearne straightened yet further, were it possible. "Have some dignity!"

Joko shrugged. "It's overrated."

Trahearne smiled, and it was a grim smile. "Then your death shall be as pathetic as your life. Come, Caoilfhionn!" He let go of his hand and lifted Caladbolg to a ready position.

"I'm with you! Damara!" Caoilfhionn raised his sword and dagger.

"I'm still here," Damara said cheerfully, an arrow already on the string.

Trahearne breathed, and that was all the warning Caoilfhionn got – that was all the warning Caoilfhionn needed to go back on the attack. The two of them were as one, alternating their strikes in perfect synchronization. From Caoilfhionn, the four elements, all the power of nature's magic flowing through him; from Trahearne, the shadow of death and Caladbolg's light of life, creating a beautiful and deadly storm of swirling power. They had never fought this way together before, but it didn't matter. They knew each other. Damara's arrows sang past them, the physical counterpoint to their magical strikes.

Joko teleported, teleported again, grimaced as he cast in return; Trahearne batted the spell aside. "Isn't it nice you have friends to protect you like this, Damara?"

"Yeah, must be completely foreign to you, huh?" Damara sassed back.

"Of course not. I'm beloved by thousands!" Joko chuckled as he summoned more bodyguards to distract them. "I admit it, I've indulged in a few calculated fabrications to bolster my myth. I hoped yours was more than that. Perhaps it is."

"You bet your wrinkled... toes it is," Damara said.

"Scarabs!" Caoilfhionn called, as another swarm rose from the entrance to the room. Trahearne stepped before both Caoilfhionn and Damara, slamming Caladbolg's point into the floor, and dropping a column of death magic around all three of them. The scarabs buzzed into the magical wall and perished, their corpses rattling to the stone floor in droves. Caoilfhionn looked up at his love with a breathless smile. His power was so mighty and effortless, and he was using it in new ways! It was magnificent and... sexy...

Joko glared as the shield fell and still they stood there unharmed. "Why persevere? It's folly. Everyone knows I can't be killed!"

Damara winked. "I'm thinking maybe that's one of those fabrications you mentioned."

"I see." Joko growled and swung his staff, summoning yet more guards, more explosive scarabs. Trahearne and Caoilfhionn glanced at each other, and split paths, Caoilfhionn to deal with bodyguards, Trahearne to pursue Joko. Damara once again called out scarabs before she shot them, doing her best to keep them from blasting either of the Sylvari.

Trahearne was hounding Joko closely, and Caoilfhionn could feel his fury from across the room. And it sounded like Joko was getting tired. "All right, all right, well played, you've made your point. Let's talk about this."

"Let's not!" Damara cried, jumping forwards with two arrows on the string. "Get outta here!"

The arrows sank deep into Joko's chest, nearly up to the fletching. Joko wheezed and clutched at them, then teleported away, reappearing near his desk to reel heavily. "This... _cannot_ be... the _end_...!" He tottered, then crashed to his face in a jangle of gold and bones.

Slowly, they lowered their weapons, carefully watching. Braham jogged forward to join them, freed from his magical prison. "Whoa. You... I think you killed him. I mean, I think you _really_ killed him!"

"Cool," Damara said, walking over and reaching forward cautiously to prod the corpse with the end of her bow. "I don't believe it yet, though."

Braham pointed at the two bodyguards who had not been slain. "Look, the Awakened... They're in a stupour. They're not under Joko's command. We- we won!"

"Did you," Joko growled, and Caoilfhionn found he could not move again!

He could hear it from the others, hear it in their strained breathing, sense it in their anger and frustration. No one could move. The only one he could _see_ was Trahearne right beside him, and only if he moved his eyes so far over it hurt. But he caught a glimpse of Trahearne's jaw tightening even through the paralysis spell, his teeth grinding, feel his rage flaring out of control.

Joko climbed to his feet, wearily, picking bits of wood and feathers from his middle. "The rumours of my immortality are drastically... understated. Oh, kids, you look so disappointed. So impotent. I feel for you, I really do. But let's be honest: you knew, in your heart." Caoilfhionn had to roll his eyes. "Fear not," Joko continued, "the world will not forget you. The scars you've gouged into it spell out your names for all to see."

"I confess," he went on in a contemplative tone, pacing a little before his captive audience, "I was happy to take credit for your 'victories'. But did you ever stop to wonder what that says about _you_? That so many bought what I was selling? They call me a monster and you heroes. The world expects Palawa Joko to dare to throw reality into chaos. But surely no mortal would be so monumentally _stupid_ as to destroy a dragon, the life force of this world. Let alone two! And a god to boot? Perhaps they will finally thank me for luring you to me..." He leaned in and grasped Damara's chin in his withered claw. "So that I... may save the world... from _you_." He let go and stepped back, grinning, spreading his arms in a most theatrical manner. "Once you're gone, everyone will flock to my embrace. They will all love _me_ – Palawa Ignacious Jo-!"

With a roar that echoed deafeningly in the hall, Aurene shot through the window and tackled Joko to the ground. He flailed ineffectually for a few seconds before Aurene took his head firmly in her jaws, shook his entire body violently, and hurled him into the corner of the hall; his pained cries fell silent. Aurene sprang after him, and there was the sound of rending flesh and snapping bones. Caoilfhionn could move again.

Braham laughed and said sarcastically, "Praise Joko."

"Wait," Damara said, confused. "His middle name was _Ignacious_? But that's... so... Hey Aurene! Are you sure you should be eating that?"

Aurene growled over her shoulder at them.

"A dragon," Trahearne murmured, staring – he had not seen Aurene before, had he?

"Maaaaybeee we leave her be," Braham said. "Although... eating Joko is probably the only sure way. Makes perfect sense. Kinda wish I'd thought of it myself."

" _You_ would not wanna eat Joko," Damara said. "He looked absolutely disgusting. I hope he doesn't taste bad, Aurene!" Aurene grunted between crunching, throwing her head back to gulp down her bites ravenously.

"Of course not!" Braham said indignantly. He sounded like he used to years ago, before Eir's injury. Like his heart had healed towards them. It was heartening. "But we should have asked her to come with us from the start. Though she would probably have hated those sewers."

"He had to be distracted," Damara said. "He was so busy with us, he never saw her coming."

Caoilfhionn put their discussion out of his mind. Joko's essence was disintegrating under Aurene's sharp teeth, and there was no more danger to them. All that mattered now was Trahearne, living and breathing and strong beside him. And Trahearne also tore his fascinated gaze away from the young dragon and turned it on Caoilfhionn, and he felt his limbs grow weak. "Trahearne," he gasped, pulled off his glasses, and ran into his arms.

* * *

Trahearne fell into Caoilfhionn's embrace as Caoilfhionn fell into his, holding him to himself as tightly as he could, cheeks pressed together, feeling each other's warmth, inhaling each other's scent. Caoilfhionn smelled of floral cinnamon and _oh_ how he'd missed it and him, his violet and blue dawn, his enchanting orchid. Never mind the dust and grime of battle. Never mind the scent of death and sap and scorched leaves. He was whole again.

At length, he pulled back to look into his eyes, cradling his head with a hand, and was caught and overwhelmed by the open, trusting, infinitely loving look in them. Those were the same rose-coral eyes that had caught him when Caoilfhionn had been the awkward, clumsy, curious, naive-to-a-fault fresh sapling he'd met five years ago. Caoilfhionn had grown graceful and skilled in everything he put his hand to, mature and strong, intelligent and wise, but his eyes were the same, and the look in them when he looked at Trahearne was the same.

He needed him. He needed him like the air he breathed, like the sun in the morning, like the sap in his veins. He didn't know how to say that. All he knew was that he loved him more than life itself. "Caoilfhionn."

"Trahearne," Caoilfhionn said, with a shiver running through his slender body and a gasp, almost a wail of a moan. Trahearne almost melted, holding this precious, precious heart so gently – and Caoilfhionn tightened his grip in a passion of fulfilled longing and kissed him deeply.

By the Blessed Source, by Caladbolg on his back, by the stars and sun and moon, this was the happiness he'd been searching for, that he'd been afraid he'd never find again even with Caoilfhionn... but here it was, nearly choking him with inexpressible emotion. It sounded like something Caoilfhionn might say, but his soul had wings in this moment and the world was his sky. He was happy. Here with his love, he was happy.

"Get a room!" he heard Phiadi complain, and grinned. The rest of Dragon's Watch must have stormed the fortress at last.

"It seems our companions wish to be rid of us," he said, letting go of Caoilfhionn and taking his hand instead. "Shall we oblige them?"

Caoilfhionn grinned back, shining like a luminescent star before him. "I'd like that."

* * *

Trahearne led him out onto the balcony, away from the others, under the beautiful desert night sky and its cool gentle breeze. The conversation of the others was a murmur from inside now. Caoilfhionn was giddy as a newborn, feeling his soul beside him, his slender, calloused hand in his. "You seem well. Thank you for coming when you did."

"I was just in time, wasn't I?" Trahearne said, flashing him a grin. "Still miffed that I alone was not enough to aid you, but the dragon does as she likes, I suppose, and no one can gainsay her."

"I was overjoyed to see you. I think we might have defeated him before he killed us. But Aurene will ensure that he can never rise again – unless he _likes_ the pain and suffering of being digested for a thousand years."

Trahearne snorted. "He might. Piercings like that, he must be a masochist."

"How did you get in? How did you know?"

"I didn't. My quest had been fulfilled – the part that isn't an ongoing process of life, that is – and I was coming to join you without specifics. It's only fate that I happened to arrive at the most dramatic moment I could." He laughed a little self-deprecatingly. "Annhilda told me what was happening, and the moment the ghosts made a hole in the scarab defenses, I was in and heading for you, where I could see the lights flickering. Managed to glide to the balcony from the outer wall and you know the rest."

"And you are well!" He seemed strong and healthy, emotionally and physically. No doubt it was related to the restoration, the blossoming of Caladbolg. Nothing was the same, but everything was as it should be.

Trahearne nodded. "I am well. The road has been long, but Caladbolg and I are whole once again." His gaze grew solemn and he took both of Caoilfhionn's hands. "I am who I am now. I can't change that. But I can control it."

Caoilfhionn gave him his best look of trust and acceptance. "I am happy for you. And I am happy to be by your side once again. I loved you before and I love you now. That's all that matters."

"I want to be by _your_ side forever, to love you, my beloved... And I will destroy _anyone_ who dares threaten you." He was deadly serious. He was right – his soul was changed from who he had been. He was darker and harder, and just a little bit more creepy. His will was implacable and his wrath was relentless.

Caoilfhionn only laughed. He didn't mind. He had never minded. For Trahearne was happy, too, and still noble, courteous, and generous, and good. He could feel it, for he knew Trahearne's soul like he knew no other. "I know you will. But we fight as one now, as we did in there." He pulled his hands free and slid his arms around Trahearne's neck instead. "Together, beloved. My scholar."

"My prince," Trahearne said, staring at him again as if he'd never truly seen him before.

The unspoken feelings in those yellow eyes set Caoilfhionn's sap racing. He'd started this embrace, but now he wanted to _dance_ for joy – well, there would be a party, wouldn't there? At least for the army! There would be dancing. He'd make sure of it. " _Fear not this night_ ," he began, his voice almost shaking with his giddiness.

" _You will not go astray_ ," Trahearne answered, as he knew he would.

" _Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way_."

" _And you can always be strong, lift your voice with the first light of dawn_." Trahearne leaned his forehead against Caoilfhionn's, and he could feel his breath on his face.

" _Dawn's just a heartbeat away... hope's just a sunrise away..._ "

"My dawn," Trahearne said softly, that deep gentle voice that completely seduced Caoilfhionn every time, and kissed him. Caoilfhionn kissed him back, hard, a hand in his leaves, his body wholly against his. The dawn could not exist without the dusk, and he gave himself to it fully...

He was the first to end it this time. "Forgive me, my love! I want to kiss you until sunrise but I also want to dance for joy..."

"Dance, then," Trahearne said, loosening his arms around him, though not letting go completely. "To what music?"

Caoilfhionn looked up mischievously at Trahearne. "Well... it's true I know other songs..."

"Yes?" Trahearne said, and Caoilfhionn had not heard him so breathless in _years_.

He began to sing again. " _Fly towards the light, against the dark night... Right here, right now, I can see you dreaming... by diving in your dream_." Trahearne's eyes gleamed as Caoilfhionn began to shimmy and writhe, stepping to his own beat, and Trahearne began tentatively to join him. " _I'm the miracle you've been waiting for in the night. Now show up here, watching your dreams unfold in front of you, diving in your dream_."

No matter what happened from now on, he _knew_ it would all turn out all right. The world was threatened with destruction more than ever, his friends were constantly in danger, and there was always grief and loss in this imperfect world. The Sylvari were still finding their place in the world, and the balance of magic was a mystery yet to be solved, let alone restored. But there was hope, too, and joy, and love beyond measure, and he would show that to everyone, at Trahearne's side.

* * *

THE END


End file.
